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

scarf down a disgusting and also delicious cheeseburger. I'm halfway through my soda when I think about Vera. I wonder if she's working tonight. I wonder if she'd want to hang out beforehand.  
    I almost text her but decide to knock on her door instead. Creepy to show up unannounced when I've known her less than twenty-four hours? Maybe. But if I text her and she doesn't return it, I'm completely out of options, and I don't feel like being alone right now.
    Thankfully, she's home—and she even smiles when she comes to the door. "Cassidy, hey! Come in!"
    I could kiss her. Instead, I follow her inside. "I was thinking we could hang out before work—maybe you could tell me a little bit about what to expect?"
    "I'm impressed you're here at all—I figured you'd be back in bed, sleeping off the effects of last night still," she says, gesturing to the armchair in her living room. "Make yourself at home."
    "Thanks." I almost laugh at her choice of words, but it'd be a bitter laugh, so I swallow it. "I did sleep most of the morning away."
    I settle into the chair, tucking my feet under me, and accept a glass of water when she offers. She sits on the couch across from me. "So. How was last night with Gage?"
    My face flushes, but I can't help smiling at her completely abrupt question. "You don't waste much time."
    She shrugs. "Gage is hot. I've always wondered. Now you're here and can tell me."
    "We didn't…" I trail off, fighting the tingle of blush in my cheeks trying to deepen. Then I decide, screw it. Carefree summer. Carefree Cassidy. The new me kisses and tells. "We didn't go all the way—but that boy has some serious talent with those fingers."
    "I knew it." She grins. "Have you seen the way he uses them on his guitar? I knew he'd have other talents with them."
    "That was my theory, too. Well, actually, guess it's more fact than theory now."  
    "Obviously, you'll see him at work, but do you think you'll see him see him again?"
    "Yes." I don't have to think about it. I remember the way he kissed me before dropping me off—this isn't one-sided. He felt it, too, this electric sort of attraction.  
    "Has he called you yet?"
    I check my phone, but there's nothing new. Not from Teagan, either. I push back a flare of irritation. "No, but he just dropped me off a few hours ago. Anyway, it's your turn. What's the deal with Jared?"
    She slides lower in her seat, dropping her gaze to her hands. A split second later she lifts her face, two spots of color in her cheeks. "Oh, you know. Not much to tell. So are you taking the job?"
    Okay then. Note to self: Do not bring up Jared to Vera. "Yes."
    "Cool. Did Jared tell you you'd be waiting tables or bartending?"
    "I actually don't know." I think about it for a second. "I don't really care, either."
    "You make better tips behind the bar—but customers are way bigger assholes." She shrugs. "I prefer waiting tables."  
    That changes things a bit. "Well. Here's hoping I get to work the bar," I say, holding my water up in a mock cheers. "I can handle assholes, and I really need the money." The credit card living in the back of my car weighs heavily on my mind.  
    "Ah, the life of a broke-ass college student," she sighs. "I completely hear you."
    "Where do you go?" I glance around her apartment but don't see the telltale signs of college pride anywhere. No college-colored frames, no blankets with university logos, no college-emblemed shot glasses lined up on a shelf.  
    "Mary Washington," she says. "I'm not the biggest fan of school spirit crap hanging all over, if that's what you're looking for. Also… I like older guys. They don't need to see reminders that I'm still in school."
    All the pops of pink fluff and glitz she has scattered throughout her apartment—pillows, posters, candles—give plenty of reminders, anyway. Not that I point it out. I'd actually be willing to bet Jared would love it if she had college paraphernalia all over to constantly remind him he has a college chick. He