VIP (Rock & Release, Act I) by Riley Edgewood Read Free Book Online

grin right back.
    We step out of the bedroom into an apartment more spacious than I remember. Okay, well, I don't really remember it at all, to be honest. Everything is very open, and the walls are painted in subtly varied coffee-colored tones. Framed fashion posters hang on the walls, mixed with smaller abstracts, all pinks and whites and golds. Vera's sitting in the living room in a navy and white striped overstuffed armchair, flipping through a gossip magazine. Her hair is perfectly styled, and her face is flawless—though she didn't have access to her bathroom. She's in pajama bottoms and a tank top, still somehow managing to look completely put together. She glances up when she hears us. "Hey."  
    "Hi." I lift my fingers in a small half-wave. "I… uh… Sorry for stealing your bed."
    "You got more use out of it than she would have." Jared's sitting at a dark wooden dining table, off the kitchen. I hadn't noticed him—but a split second flashback to last night has him in it, laughing with us in the cab and then…paying the driver, maybe? After that, all I see is Gage. Jared stabs a plate of eggs with a fork, muttering something I don't quite catch.
    Vera flashes him a look before responding to me. "It's cool. I'd forgotten how comfortable my guest bed is anyway."
    "Can't say the same for your couch ." Jared shoves away from the table, grabbing his mug, and helps himself to a refill from her coffee pot.
    "Let's get this girl some eats." Gage cuts in, tugging me toward the kitchen and ignoring the tension between the other two. Or maybe he doesn't notice it. Guys can be so oblivious. Must be nice. I shoot Vera a look of concern, but she just rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
    A moment later, I'm at the dining table with Gage, scarfing down scrambled eggs and toast and a fresh cup of coffee, the other one left forgotten in Vera's bedroom, and I couldn't care less about tension. I don't care about anything other than the food hitting my belly. "This is the best breakfast I've ever had."  
    "The secret's in the bacon fat," Vera says.  
    The thought of bacon fat though… I have to pause and take a few deep breaths. "Let's just let the ingredients stay secret."
    She laughs, turning a page. "Got it."  
    "So then," Gage pushes a strand of messy hair back from his forehead, the corner of his mouth twisting into half a smile, "you probably don't want to think about…say…a greasy pork sandwich?"
    "Oh God. Stop." I put my fork down, my stomach rolling.  
    "Not even one in a dirty ashtray?"
    "What are you doing ?" Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. In the nose. Out the mouth. I glare at the grin he's wearing.  
    "Couldn't resist." The grin tilts into a disarming smile. "Old habit with my college roommates last year. Watching each other suffer hangovers was a bit of a sick pleasure."
    "Didn't you get enough pleasure last night?" Jared smirks over his coffee.  
    "Dude, don't be a dick." Gage rubs the back of his neck in short jerky motions. Feigned nonchalance even though the way he narrows his eyes gives away his irritation.  
    I don't bother pretending to be cool. "Gross, Jared. Didn't we discuss you being sleazy yesterday? Because clearly it didn't sink in."  
    "Sorry, sorry." Jared raises his hands in mock contrition. "Just trying to get my fill, since somebody let me down last night."
    "Enough." Vera stands, her magazine dropping to the floor. "God, Jared. Just enough. Maybe if you didn't make comments like that—they wouldn't be needed."
    "Not that they're ever needed," I add.  
    "What?" He looks back and forth between us, pointing at Gage. "He can tease you but I'm not allowed to joke around?"
    "Grossing me out to mess with my hangover is cruel ," I bump my knee against Gage's under the table, "but he's kidding, and you're just being disgusting."
    "Exactly." She drops into the open seat at the table, scowling at him. "Maybe you should just go."
    "Okay, I get it. My bad." Jared takes a bite of toast and, when nobody