Nothing to Gain (Learning the Ropes #2) - E.M. Denning Page 0,2

them. And the extra few inches didn’t hurt.

Ansel sat on the couch and pulled Brett’s feet into his lap. With practiced hands, Ansel massaged them.

“It’s okay, you know.”

Brett cracked an eye open. Ansel’s foot massages always made him tired.

“What is?”

“Liking him.”

Brett scoffed and wiggled his toes. “More.” He wasn’t attracted to Linden. Not really. There was something about him. Something different and interesting. Mysterious. He intrigued Brett. That was all.

2

Linden

Linden lay stretched out in Dante’s bed. The twin mattress didn’t allow for much personal space, but Linden didn’t mind. With his legs tangled with Dante’s and his friend partially on top of him, it wasn’t the most comfortable Linden had ever been, but he enjoyed being close to people.

Not that he’d grown up without affection, but his dad had raised him all by himself. For a kid who was naturally affectionate, his dad’s long hours put food on the table, but didn’t supply Linden with an outlet for his cuddly nature.

Coming to college in a different, larger town, meant Linden could let go. He could be as affectionate and clingy as he wanted. Being at his dad’s for Thanksgiving had driven home how isolated he’d been in his small hometown. He loved his dad. He loved his town, but growing up he’d felt like the only gay kid there.

“I’m going to check out Casual Bottoms tomorrow. You want to come?” Linden asked Dante.

“I have plans with Zane. He’s finishing up a huge assignment tonight and after class tomorrow he’s taking me out somewhere.”

“I’m glad the two of you are back together.” Dante and his boyfriend, Zane, had broken up briefly, but somehow patched things together during Thanksgiving break. Linden was glad for his friend. Dante was one of the sweetest people Linden knew and hearing him happy again made Linden happy.

“Me too. I can’t believe Jonathan didn’t kill me. I’m his best friend and I’m with his brother.”

“I’m your best friend and I have no brother, so you’re in the clear,” Linden laughed.

“Why are you going to the thrift store? Weren’t we there last week?”

“Some people like having more than seven shirts, Dante.” Linden poked Dante in the ribs.

“More clothes means more laundry.”

“I can’t believe Zane loves a guy who owns seven shirts.”

“I have more than seven.”

“Eight is almost seven.”

“Shut up. You just want to ogle Brett.”

“He’s hot. I can’t help it.” Linden remembered dancing with him before Thanksgiving. Brett had long hair Linden envied. He braided it and Linden had jerked off thinking of how it would feel to have Brett on top of him, to have his hair cascade down and brush against Linden’s skin.

Brett was striking. From the first moment Linden had spotted him in the thrift store, in his six-inch sex heels, purple leggings and sheer blouse, Linden had wanted him. And sometimes when he was alone, he could admit his jealousy. As much as he wanted Brett, he wished he had the courage to wear half of the things Brett did.

Linden sighed.

“You could ask him out, you know.”

“Uh, no. I absolutely could not. He’s older and hotter and… no. I can’t.”

“Zane’s older and hotter, and somehow he’s in love with me.”

“No. That’s not the same thing. Can we not talk about this?”

“Fine,” Dante sighed. “You win. But for the record, you should go for it.”

Dante’s words were still rattling around in Linden’s head when he went straight from class to the thrift store. Ansel greeted him with a wide smile. Ansel was nice and laid back. In some ways, he reminded Linden of Dante.

“Hey, Linden. Back already?” Ansel was in the black section of the color divided store. The unique division of the clothing made shopping interesting, but Linden secretly loved that there weren’t sections dedicated to gender. It made covertly coveting the pretty skirts and delicate fabrics easier and less obvious.

“You know I love it here. Got anything new?”

Ansel motioned to the back. “There’s some new stuff by the machines. Freshly washed and dried. Have a look.”

Linden headed for the back of the store. “How’s business?”

“Not bad,” Ansel replied. “A local theater company was through the other day to shop for costumes for one of their productions.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah, they bought out a lot of the men’s formal wear.”

“Good thing I’m not a formal kind of guy.” Linden made his way to the back of the store. Near the change rooms sat a washer and dryer that Ansel used to launder the clothing that came through the doors. A table sat next to the dryer. It