Yellow (The Safeword Series, #2) by Ava Claire Read Free Book Online

playful nudge with my shoulder. We were cool, right? Buddies? If I wanted us to get back there, I had to stop thinking that he was constantly thinking about that night, and how I'd reacted. Or hadn't reacted.
    “I want to talk about the last time I came over.”
    I was grateful that the string lights weren't bright enough to broadcast my wince. “Peter-”
    “Don't worry, I'm not about to try and kiss you again.” He tried to buddy nudge me back, but it just hurt. Not in a physically painful way, in an emotional way, because I could hear the hurt in his voice and I'd seen whispers of it in his eyes ever since that night.
    “It's not that,” I explained. I focused on the railing, the sturdiness of the iron, and my mind went to the most inappropriate place possible. I thought about 'D'. How I wished he was here, his powerful body pressed against mine, forcing me to let go of the railing. To trust him. I wouldn't hesitate letting go of my death grip on the balcony railing if he whispered to obey. With Peter, I needed to hold onto something, because I felt like the wrong word, the wrong move, would be misinterpreted and I would hurt him again. More than before, because now, I knew how he felt about me.
    “You sure?” Peter asked skeptically. “You can barely look at me.”
    I twitched my eyes up at him, his green eyes swarming with hope and a undercurrent of fear that was so palpable that I could taste it.  What could I say to that? I could barely last five seconds looking at him before I exhaled and turned back to the front, more comfortable with the dark than telling him a truth that would ruin our friendship. And that's when I knew, when the emotion built in my throat, making the words too heavy to say out loud. How hard had it been for him to be a good friend to me when he wanted more? The least I could do was be honest with him.
    “You're my best friend, Peter.”
    Even in the near darkness, I saw his eyebrows shoot to his hairline.
    “I don't mean in a friendship bracelet, note passing, write love letters in the back of our yearbook kinda way,” I blushed, tugging at my hair. “I guess...what is a best friend anyway? To me it's someone that has your back, who lifts you up, who you can count on when stuff is sunshine and awesome and will binge on pizza and beer with you when things are crappy.” I didn't run away from his gaze this time, because I saw nothing but openness in his eyes. The same kindness that shined like a light at the end of the tunnel when I started at The Dish and I learned that talent meant very little without opportunity. When I was feeling so lonely and unsure of myself that I was wondering if my mother was right about going the safe route, doing something practical instead of chasing my passion.
    “You probably don't remember that first staff meeting,” I began, pulling out a seat on the balcony. I only had a few inches to squeeze into it. I managed to slip in the crack and drop onto the seat without embarrassing myself. Watching him squeeze his long, lean frame in a slot that was barely big enough for a small child made me chuckle, and when he fired me a playful glare I just grinned and continued. “I walked in that room with my chest puffed out, naively thinking that every positive comment my English and journalism professors scrawled in the margins of my papers had prepared me for the real world. A world where my boss wouldn't give two shits about my talent. Where my boss wouldn't give two shits about me.”
    With anyone else, I wouldn't dare let my bitterness, my vulnerability shine through. I could count my friends in LA on one hand, with a few fingers to spare. When I complained about my disappointments with my job, Lindsay would listen with a look on her face, like I was ungrateful. I had a feeling it was because she, and a whole lot of other people in this town, had to work crap jobs so they could even dare to shoot for their dream job. Peter got it...he wanted to branch away