Flipped Chapter One

Carter Hope would do just about anything forhis best friend. When Mario gets the brightidea to buy a POS house together to flip,Carter swears he’s out of his mind.Unfortunately, Mario Gutierrez is hard toresist. After one weird conversation at a bar,and one meaningful look across their emptybeer bottles, Carter isn’t sure he’s not theone flipping for his friend.They’re both tops, so to make this work, onewill have to give in and roll over. Carter willhave to come to terms with his past beforehe can look to a future with his best friend.

13,700 word novella Published 04/21/2012ISBN: 978-0-98570-828-3 Editor: Corina Calsing Turn the page for: Reviewers’ Thoughts Read Chapter One

This is the sweetest story. I love “friend tolover” romances. Flipped is sweet without beingsappy, sexy but intimate. Highly recommended. ~ MM Good ReviewsThis short novella is a wonderful representation ofthe friends to lovers trope and was a delightful read.What I loved about Flipped by Olivia Brynn was therelationship between Carter and Mario. You couldfeel the history, love and friendship between thetwo men as you were reading. Plus, once they decideto become lovers…wow, there was some seriouschemistry going on there!

Flipped is a short story about two tops best friendswho suddenly realize there is more between themthan their friendship. This is a sexy little book abouttwo big guys who certainly don’t make it seem easy,but they do make it more than worth the effort.Recommended.I found these guys sweet together and Flipped to bean enjoyable short story for when you are lookingfor something light and easy...

Chapter One “Maybe we should split up.” Carter Hope wiped the tears from hiseyes and looked across the table. He’d beentalking with his best friend, Mario Gutierrez,for almost two hours. People filled the clubwall-to-wall, but the only attention the couplereceived so far was when their laughteroverpowered the music. Carter wouldn’t often laugh himself totears, but Mario had that effect on him.They’d been friends since their first year ofcollege, and that sense of humor was whatdrew Carter to the lanky brunet. Mario hadthe ability to crack Carter’s usually stoicfacade like no other human on earth. “You’re afraid no one will approach

you when you’ve got a big, sexy stud sittingnext to you, huh?” Carter stuck his chest outin mock arrogance. “Take a look around, Hope.” Carter rolled his eyes. He hated beingcalled by his last name, and Mario knew it. Ifit wasn’t also a girl’s name, he wouldn’tmind. “Don’t call me—” “Carter-Farter then. Look around. Okay, that nickname was worse, butrather than regress to elementary schoolname-calling, he did as Mario asked. Plentyof attractive men gyrated on the dance floor.The cute one they’d both called dibs on whenthey’d walked in tonight now used an olderman’s Armani-suited frame as a stripper pole.Everyone seemed to be having a great timeflirting and watching the dancers. The guyssurrounding the dance floor laughed with oneanother, letting their gazes skim the area. “What?” “Keep looking, genius. See that ten-foot cushion around our table?” Mario was right. They’d been given awide berth. For all the flirting going on in the

club, not one gaze would meet his. “I don’tget it. Didn’t you use your winning colognetonight?” Carter looked over his shoulder,only to find the other tables occupied bycouples and threesomes mingling and, insome cases, singing along with the dancetunes. “Don’t try to blame it on my cologne.Look at us. We’ve been here for hours, butwe haven’t been socializing. Two young guyson the prowl, and we haven’t even flirtedwith the dancers or fought over the hottie outthere, who’s already found himself a sugardaddy. Hell, I wouldn’t even approach us.We’re too busy sitting here talking to eachother like an old married couple.” He tookanother drink. “You’ve been talking. I’ve beenlistening.” “I’ve got better stories.” Marioshrugged. “And I can’t get a word in edgewise.”Carter rubbed his hand down his T-shirt,continuing his new assessment of the club.“Meat market” was too generous a term for

this place. This wasn’t a club for couples;everyone here was out looking for someaction. Carter and Mario included. They’dpicked this particular bar for that very reason.“You’re right. We should split up.” “Yeah.” He made no move to leave the table,and neither did Mario. To tell the truth, Carterno longer felt like flirting with a bunch ofstrangers in the hopes of taking one home.He’d be happy just spending time with hisbest friend and making it an early night.Carter sipped his beer and watched the hottieand his newest dance partner. The twink didhis best bump and grind, but the poor thinghad no coordination; he flailed his arms in alldirections, making him look like a rag doll inthe wind. So cutie pie can’t dance. Too bad. Mario reached across the table to nudgeCarter’s elbow. “I’ll never forget the time youtried to teach Elaine how to moonwalk.” Carter sprayed out his mouthful of beerbefore he laughed it back through his nose,the picture of their friend Elaine’s waveringattempt at the dance move clear in his mind,

though it had been four years ago. “Oh God,that was funny. I never knew anyone couldfall on her ass so many times in a row.” “And then she backed over the dog andspilled that… What was she drinking?” “Everclear and tomato juice.” “That’s right. So disgusting.” Mariochuckled. “Big ass red stain on that carpet formonths afterward.” “She finally got tired of the blood stainquestions, so she threw it out.” Mario laughed harder, a full bodiedguffaw he never tried to smother. The manlaughed with every fiber of his being. Justlike he did everything else. All or nothing. Itwas contagious enough that Carter’s facestarted to ache. “We have some weirdfriends.” “None weirder than you, dude.” “Me? You’re the one who sleeps with abody pillow.” “If you thought it was weird, why didyou buy it for me?” Carter finished his beer and set theempty bottle on the edge of the table. “I

forgot your birthday and had to findsomething quickly.” He shrugged. “It was onsale. Cheap.” That was a lie. Carter knew how Mariopropped six pillows on his bed in order tosleep. The body pillow was a logical choicefor a gift. The fact that it came with theSuperman seal all over the fabric was abonus. “You’re such a liar. You left the damnreceipt on the table. I saw that you bought it aweek before my birthday. And it wasn’t onsale.” He flipped up his middle finger.“Admit it. You like me.” “Ugh. You’re not my type.” Cartersnorted. At Mario’s playful pout, Carter tooka closer look at the guy. If Mario wasn’t sucha good friend, he’d be just what Carterwanted in a man: dark hair, dark skin, aboutfour inches shorter than his own six feet, butlean and handsome. Great sense of humor.Smart. Huh. Not bad. Carter let his gaze drift down toMario’s throat, where the dip beneath his

Adam’s apple showed each beat of his heart.Smooth and warm-looking skin. Carter’d seenMario shirtless on a daily basis. The man onlyhad a dozen chest hairs, which he plucked assoon as they grew long enough to grab. Carterknew Mario had brown nipples, likechocolate kisses—not coppery like his own—and that Mario’s work as a constructionforeman kept his body toned and tight. Carter’s gaze dipped to Mario’s lap. “I’d do you.” Mario’s voice seemed totravel under the music rather than rise aboveit. Carter snapped his attention back up toMario’s face, embarrassed at being caughtogling his best friend, but he couldn’t read hisexpression from behind the glass. It had to bea joke. They weren’t attracted to each other.There was nothing there. Never would be.They were closer to brothers than lovers.Carter shook his head and smiled. “No onedoes me. I’d have to do you.” “I don’t bottom for anybody.” “I know. Neither do I.” “I’d make sure you’d like it,” Mario

sing-songed. “You’ll never get the chance,” Cartermocked. Some guys liked to top; some likedto bottom. Some even liked to switch. Twotops could never hook up. That was justasking for chaos. “It would ruin ourfriendship anyway. I like you too much tofuck you.” “Very true.” Mario finished his drink—some fruity thing with a sexual name—andcrossed his legs. “I thought you were leaving.” “Me? I found this table. You leave.” Carter scratched his stomach, totallynot feeling the urge to prowl. “If I get up, I’mlikely to mosey on out the door. Leave you topick out tonight’s flavor.” “Mosey? What the fuck are you, somekind of cowboy?” Carter smiled. Again. Or still. “I onlyride the stallions.” “And Little Bee.” “Leave Brian out of it. I told you thatout of confidence.” He never should haveconfided Brian’s endowment—or lack

thereof—to Mario. He brought it upconstantly. “Poor guy will get a complex.” “Little Bee? A complex? The onlycomplex that boy will ever suffer from is theNapoleon kind. From his overblowncockiness, I could tell he had more dick in hispersonality than he could ever have in hispants.” Good thing Little Bee—Brian,dammit—had moved out of state. Carterwould be mortified if he ever overheardMario. “Some guys like little dicks.” “Yeah. Virgin bottoms.” “Like you.” Mario flipped him off. “I just prefer totop. Not all of us need a reason.” Carter’s face burned. He had a damngood reason for never offering up his ass, andMario was one of the few people in the worldwho knew it. Carter picked at the label on hisbeer bottle. Even now, six years later, the memoryof Kris sent a chill through his body. Hecould still feel those ten blunt fingers digginginto his hips and the fiery pain with each one

of Kris’s thrusts. He’d never forget the agonyof his first time. The months that followedwere filled with confusion anddisappointment. Hell, he’d idealized the sexact for years. The fact that he didn’t enjoy adamn thing about it scared the hell out of him.If it weren’t for Mario… He glanced back at his friend across thetable. Eyes filled with patience, not pity,gazed back at him. Where Carter liked towork things out on his own, Mario was thetalker. Each time he’d see Carter start tosuppress his emotions, Mario would coax himto open up. Carter didn’t think he’d ever beable to repay the man for helping him cometo terms with his experience. Not every gayman needs to enjoy anal sex, Car. Not everygay man who does enjoy anal sex is requiredto receive. So you’re not a bottom. Neitheram I, and I have no complaints about my sexlife. The alcohol was probably making himsappy, because right now Carter wanted tograb Mario and hug the hell out of him.Before he could act on that urge, their

server—they’d nicknamed him Chip earlyon—appeared in his tight leather pants and atuxedo collar that rode just underneath hisAdam’s apple. “Another round for youguys?” Carter shook his head. “I think I’mdone.” “Me too.” Mario shoved his glasstoward the edge of the table. When Chip left, Carter toed Mariobeneath the table. “I can catch a cab. I don’twant to put a kink in your night. I guess I’mjust not feeling it. Maybe with me gone youcan meet Mr. Right.” Their gazes met, and for the life of him,Carter couldn’t look away. Suddenly everyfleck in those brown eyes seemed to sparkwith fire. Carter’s heart reacted, poundingalmost painfully, drowning out the technomusic and overloud conversation. A thousandmessages were transmitted from Mario’s eyesto his. “I’m not feeling it either. I’d have hadjust as much fun staying home with you and asix pack.”

His mouth suddenly dry, Carterreached for his beer, only to remember toolate that he’d finished it. When Mario lickedhis lips, Carter’s mouth filled with saliva. Helooked away. Focused again on the writhingbodies on the dance floor. Maybe he’d hadmore alcohol than he thought. Maybe he washornier than he thought. Maybe he read toomuch into that simple glance. From the cornerof his eye, he chanced another look across thetable, only to find Mario’s attention hadn’twavered. There had to be another meaning tothe flare of heat behind those eyes, but amillion images flooded his mind—not one ofthem to do with spending the night alone. The twitching of his cock pulled himout of the trance. He stared at the row ofblinking lights framing the stage. He couldn’tpossibly get hard over a direct stare. Carterhad to be reading the signs wrong. Holy crap. They’d spent all this time inthe bar, and Carter only had one freakingbeer. Get your head on straight, Carter. It’sMario. Your goddamned best friend. He tooka deep breath. Stale alcohol, sweat, and the

mingling scents of too many differentcolognes didn’t help clear his mind. I need toget out of here. Maybe a long hot shower. “Ready to go then?” He couldn’t eventurn to face Mario as he stood, thankful hisfriend followed him and would be unable tosee the conflict written all over his face. Hegave himself a mental slap in the face to getback on the right rational track. My best friend. Not even interested.Even if I was, Mario has different tastes. Helikes younger guys. Skinny twinks like the baddancer back there. By the time they reachedMario’s car, Carter had talked himself out ofwhatever crazy place he’d been visiting. Bymorning he could laugh at his short trip intofantasyland. “I guess we are a couple of oldguys. It’s barely eleven, and we’re goinghome alone.” At the chirp of the lock, Cartergot in and buckled up. Mario fastened his belt and cranked theengine. “I’m not going home alone. I’m goinghome with you.” He winked, and the familiareasy smile stretched across his face. There it was again. That weird electric

current that had never struck him before. Notfrom any man, especially not from his bestfriend. Mario returned his attention to theroad, leaving Carter gasping for breath. Helooked away as well, his heart pounding. This can’t be happening. Not withMario. Barely listening to Mario’s runningcommentary about traffic in the background,Carter pulled his phone out and scrolledthrough old messages. He had to findsomething to focus on, or he’d wonder whatthis strange, new attraction was all about. Noway would he spoil their friendship by evensuggesting anything sexual between them.He’d never even looked at Mario in any wayother than platonic. Except in jest. Why thefuck would one look across a bar table stir hisinsides up like a blender on high speed? Hetook a cleansing breath, filtering out Mario’saftershave. The winning scent, he’d declared.And it did smell damn good. His face flooded with heat. We’re both tops. It wouldn’t workanyway. Carter’s shoulders slumped. The one

thing he needed in sex was control. He’dnever give that up for anybody. That meantnever rolling over to give up his ass. Ever. Mario was only one of three people inthe world who knew Carter’s history. Hell,Mario knew everything there was to knowabout Carter, and though the man loved totalk, he never once betrayed that confidenceor teased him about the incident. At that thought, Carter realized the carwas quiet. Rarely did Mario even turn on theradio, since he’d just turn the volume down ortalk over it anyway, but now there wasn’teven any chatter to fill the empty space. Carter glanced across at Mario, whosebrow was furrowed. The disturbed expressionwas uncharacteristic. Even more so than thesilence. Carter tossed his phone onto the dash.“Maybe next time we try the new place onNinety-second Street. I hear they have half-price well drinks during happy hour.” “Sounds good.” Mario’s voice wasrough, as if he was distracted and answering

on rote. “Or we could go to a country westernbar. Swing dance with some ladies.” “Okay.” Yeah, Mario wasn’t listening. Carterturned to the window to hide his grin. “Wecould always just stay home and playScrabble.” “You cheat.” He glanced over at Mario andencountered a raised middle finger. “Youthink I wasn’t listening?” “I told you, you didn’t have to leavethe club. I could have grabbed a taxi.” “And I told you I was done.” “Then why are you being such aprick?” Mario’s face melted into a mischievoussmile. “You are what you eat.” Carter rolled his eyes. Only becausetwo days ago Mario had said the same thing,and Carter had rolled his eyes then too. Todaywas different, but he couldn’t say why.Couldn’t even acknowledge it, let alone dragMario into his crazy imagination.

Did Chip drop something into mydrink? Carter took a few calming breathsthrough his mouth. Finally Mario pulled intotheir driveway. The old colonial was theirjoint project. Some do-it-yourself channel rana show highlighting house flippers, and withboth men’s work history in construction,Mario had sworn they could make some“fucking awesome money.” He wasn’t aneasy man to deny. Mario with enthusiasm wasdownright dangerous. So they pooled theirsavings, cashed in Mario’s trust fund, andbought the place dirt cheap. They saved evenmore money by subleasing their apartmentand living on site. Carter had taken the upperfloor; Mario occupied the garden level below.They shared a kitchen and often spent theirfree time together working on the renovationsor watching their rival baseball teams. The image Mario had planted—an oldmarried couple—really hit home when theywalked silently up the front steps onto thewide porch. The only thing left to completethe picture would be if they held hands.

Carter shoved his in his pockets asMario unlocked the door. “It’s a beautiful night. You know, if wehad a porch swing we could enjoy theweather.” “You and that damn porch swing.Would you let it go?” Carter shook his head.“We don’t need a porch swing.” “It’ll sell the place. Just you watch”Mario pushed the door open before gesturingto the empty space behind Carter. “Bigwooden swing with a squeaky link, and thisplace will get snapped up.” “Squeaky link?” Mario shrugged. “Hey, I don’t makethe rules.” Inside, Carter tossed his wallet andchange into the empty cardboard box that saton the top of a stack of drywall by the door.Mario made his way to the kitchen, wherehe’d always grab a glass of water beforeheading downstairs. Carter pulled his T-shirt to his armpitsbefore stopping. Why hesitate? He’d beennaked in front of Mario before, and now

going shirtless was uncomfortable? Snap out of it, Carter. He tossed hisshirt aside, swearing he didn’t avoid Mario’sgaze. “Good night, man. Don’t forget ourdrywall project tomorrow. Bright and early. Idon’t want to have to wake your ass up.” Hisvoice echoed off the bare walls, anotherreminder the two men were alone. Together. “I won’t forget.” Mario’s gruff voicecaused Carter to imagine the man first thingin the morning, nudging his morning woodinto a hot male flank. Sleepy-eyed, hair sexilybed-mussed. Carter shook the image from his headand turned away completely so he couldadjust his growing cock. “See youtomorrow.” He prayed his voice didn’t give himaway. He didn’t even want to chance lookingat Mario. “Good night, Carter.” Carter’s feet shuffled to a stop. Shit. Hesaid my name. He rarely used his name in agood-night, and now he used his entire

name—not just the first syllable—in that sexyway that suggested all kinds of things theycould do rather than sleep. Carter forced hisfeet to carry him forward and clenched histeeth all the way to the bathroom. He kickedthe door shut, braced his arms on the vanity,and took a few cleansing breaths. He listened as the water ran in thekitchen, then the clink of the drinking glassbeing set on the top rack of the dishwasher.Carter didn’t have to watch to know everymove the man made. He could picture thescene as clearly as if he stood next to Mario. He’d run a hand through his hair,leaving tunnels in the thick mahoganystrands. Then he’d start undressing before hemade it to the staircase down to hisapartment. They’d been friends for a decade,and roommates for close to five years, soCarter knew every pattern the guy had. Carter turned on the faucet. Partly fordistraction and partly to splash some water onhis face. Before he could lean over the sink,he had to unzip his fly and pull out his cock.He throbbed. Throwing his head back, he

gripped his prick and pulled. “Oh, fuck.” Tingles began almostimmediately. Every damn nerve ending in hisbody stood at attention and buzzed with thetension. Before another stroke, he let go andstiff-armed the countertop again. He suckedin huge amounts of air and blinked rapidlyuntil his vision cleared. Okay, so he’d end thenight with some solo play. But not here. He’dwait until he lay in bed with The Late Showturned up to cover his squeaky springs and hisown moaning. He shoved Mario’s image out of hisspank bank and focused on brushing his teeth.By the time he left the bathroom, his bodyhad cooled down to a slow simmer, but notenough to rezip his fly, so he just tucked hisdick into his underwear as best he could.Trying to keep his mind off how damn goodhis orgasm would be tonight, he crossed theliving room to the kitchen because Mario hadleft the light on—as usual. Once dark, the entire old house seemedto settle in, curl up like a cat in front of afireplace. Carter stood in the kitchen, staring

at the closed door that stood between him andhis best friend. He wouldn’t let the thought ofwalking downstairs and taking Mario into hisarms form in his mind. Not going to happen. So why wouldn’t his feet move? He relaxed his jaw to breathe throughhis mouth. His eyes started to water fromstaring at the dark door, but he seemed gluedin place. Go to bed, Carter. The sooner you getto sleep, the sooner you can put thisweirdness behind you. He repeated the order afew times before he took a step backward.Just as he did, the door opened. Mario entered the kitchen, wearingnothing but his boxer shorts. He kept hold ofthe doorknob. Even from across the room—litonly by the neighbor’s back porch lightshining through their uncovered windows—there was no mistaking the desire oozing outof every pore. Carter squeezed his eyes shut. He couldnot imagine shit like this about his bestfriend. When he opened his eyes, the manstood close enough to touch.

“I’m sorry, Car. God, I’m sorry. I knowI shouldn’t be up here.” His words blendedtogether in one long syllable. A clear sign ofMario’s anxiety. Some people talked louderwhen agitated; Mario talked faster. “I don’twant to fuck things up between us. You’remy best friend. You can tell me to leave. Justsay the word and I’ll go downstairs, and we’llforget I ever opened that door. We can blamethe liquor. Or, God, please tell me—” Mario’stook another step until his breath washed overCarter’s heated skin. “Tell me it’s okay. Tellme you want this too, and let me kiss you.”Mario’s voice had never sounded so damnsexy. The rumble went straight to Carter’sballs. Carter couldn’t speak. The alarmsgoing off now drowned by the desirepumping through his veins. He reached up,hooked Mario around the neck, and broughttheir foreheads together. “I want this.”

FLIPPED ISBN 978-0-98570-828-3 Copyright 2012 Olivia Brynn. oliviabrynn.com All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, ortransmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the priorwritten permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Editor: Corina Calsing Cover Artist: Booknibbles This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.