Page 100 of Cold as Ice

“I . . .uh . . .don’t know,” Mal admitted.

Elliott raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t play a lot of games, growing up. Didn’t have video games or anything like that. Dad thought it was a waste of my time.” It was more than he’d probably have told anyone else. Anyone else, he’d have changed the subject.

Maybe Mal was clueless about dating, but he did know he couldn’t possibly expect Elliott to want to be with him, for real, if he couldn’t say at least some of his truths.

“Are you serious?” Elliott stared at him. “Nothing? No games at all?”

“Well, obviously I played hockey.” Mal finished his hot dog in three bites, and moved on to the next one, squirting mustard from the little packet along its length.

“But nothing else? No Xbox? No PlayStation? No arcades? Not even a little Monopoly?”

“No,” Mal said.

Elliott flopped back in his chair. “Fuck, no wonder you don’t know how to have fun.”

“I know how to have fun.” Butdidhe? Mal suddenly wondered if that was just another of his delusions that Elliott was slowly breaking down.

Elliott shot him a look full of skepticism. “Do you though?”

“Well—maybe not. But I have a feeling you’re going to do your part to correct that,” Mal said.

“Oh, you know it, honey,” Elliott joked. He leaned forward. “Eat up. I’m gonna challenge you to a pinball battle. Anyone can play pinball.”

Mal didn’t know if that was true. But he finished his second hot dog, split the nachos with Elliott, and ten minutes later, hewas being led to the bank of machines along one side of the arcade.

“Here, this is a good one,” Elliott said, gesturing towards one with a Star Wars theme. “I don’t know if you’re into—” He stopped abruptly, then flushed.

“I’m into what?”

“Uh, Kylo Ren? Adam Driver? But then you wouldn’t be—not like me.” Elliott chuckled self-consciously.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Mal knew there was something he was supposed to be picking up on, but he couldn’t find it.

Elliott rubbed his neck. Looked everywhere but at Mal, which made Mal pretty sure that somehow, tangentially, this Adam Driver guy, wearing a ridiculous mask on the pinball machine, hadsomethingto do with it. “Well, uh. The truth is, he reminds me a bit of you.”

Mal leaned in, looking more intently at the artwork. “I wear a silly looking mask and run around in a black cloak?”

Elliott laughed. “No, no, just . . .your hair is a bit longer and dark. And you’re tall. Like him. It’s very stupid.”

“You’re not the only one with a celebrity crush,” Mal admitted. “Do you want to know how many times I’ve watchedBarbie, only for Ryan Gosling?”

“You? WatchedBarbie?”

“It’s not that surprising.” It was Mal’s turn to be self-conscious. But Elliott had made a confession, so he’d felt obligated to reciprocate.

“It’s really, really surprising, but that only makes it seem legit.” Elliott grinned. “Who would’ve thought you’d be a Ken fan?”

“Who isn’t a Ken fan?” Mal retorted.

“Fair point. Sorry, I don’t think there’s aBarbiethemed pinball machine here. Sorry. But I think we can find one . . .” Elliott trailed off, glancing around.

“It’s alright. I’ll try this one if you think it’ll be good,” Mal said.

“I’ll be just over here,” Elliott said, shooting him a soft smile.

Mal popped his quarter in and familiarized himself with the controls before he started the game. How hard could this be? He had good instincts and even better aim. He was one of the most accurate passers and players in the Evergreens’ conference, instincts he’d honed over the last four years. Maybe he hadn’t started out as one of the best, but he’d made himself into that through determination and a hell of a lot of hard work.

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