Page 120 of Cold as Ice

“Of course,” Elliott said. “Count me in.”

“He’ll be in for a day or two. Maybe he’ll catch a game and then we’ll go to dinner. All three of us.” Mal’s smile looked more like a baring of teeth, a begrudging acceptance of reality, than any kind of anticipation.

“Sounds like a great time,” Elliott said, trying to genuinely mean it.

Mal sighed. Pushed his hair back. “No, it doesn’t, but I know you’ll do a good job pretending.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Elliott promised. “And after? You can reward me,thoroughly, for it.”

Mal’s smile was a ghost of his normal, but Elliott would take it. “You got it,” he said.

Elliott supposed he should just let him go, now, but instead, he pulled him into another hug. Made it longer this time, and Mal didn’t protest and didn’t try to pull away.

“I love you,” Elliott murmured into his shoulder, hoping he heard and also hoping he didn’t. Was this the kind of thing they said all the time now or was it only to be pulled out for special occasions? Still, if therewasa special occasion, Elliott was pretty damn sure anytime Mal’s dad came up counted.

“Love you too,” Mal said. Gave him one last squeeze, then he was letting go, turning and walking away.

Elliott knew if he didn’t want to be late, he needed to get his ass across the quad to the dining hall, but he decided he’d earned watching Mal walk away, broad shoulders and slim hips and an ass that he’d never get tired of ogling.

When he finally made his way over to Beard, Ivan and Ramsey were already at a table, Ivan plowing through a sandwich and Ramsey shoveling rice and chicken into his mouth.

Elliott waved at them and went to get soup—and a big sandwich, too. He was starving. Starving and suddenly anxious.

It was easy to be lackadaisical about Mal’s dad and his stats grade when Mal was right there, being delightful and delectable, but when he disappeared, out of sight, it all came roaring back.

On his way to the checkout, he added two big chocolate chip cookies the size of his head. Hedeservedthis chocolate.

“What took you so long?” Ramsey wanted to know as he sat down with his tray.

“And chocolate chip cookies,twoof them,” Ivan pointed out.

Elliott made a face. Wishing that he’d smuggled them to the table in his sweatshirt pockets.

“My chocolate consumption is none of your business,” Elliott said with a prim, annoyed tone. Annoyed that he was even annoyed.

“Whatisour business is what the fuck is going on with you,” Ramsey said bluntly.

“Nothing,” Elliott said, but he wasn’t sure how convincing it was. Not with the chocolate chip cookies staring at Ramsey from his tray.

“Don’t give us that shit,” Ivan said. “You and Mal are fucking, and you didn’t even tell us.”

“To be fair, I didn’t need to betold,” Ramsey said.

Ivan smacked him on the thigh. “Not all of us have this supernatural shit for a brain.”

“And that must be a real bummer,” Ramsey said, grinning.

“Surprisingly no,” Ivan said. He rolled his eyes. Then turned to Elliott. “So, you weren’t going to tell us?”

“It’s . . .it’s delicate,” Elliott said.

Ramsey leaned in. “This isn’t a fucking Taylor Swift song, Jones. Spill.”

But Elliott just sipped at his chicken noodle soup. He didn’t have to say a goddamned thing. And if hedid, then he might not be rewarded by Malcolm for his very good behavior.

That was a fucking easy choice to make.

No choice at all, really.

---