Page 15 of Cold as Ice

Ouch.

“Okay. So rule one. Gotta be on time.”

“Early,” Mal inserted.

Elliott rolled his eyes. “Early. Rule two, three times a week. Any other rules?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of a few.”

“Probably more than a few, knowing you and your love affair with rules,” Elliott muttered.

“Cute,” Mal drawled. Leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. His T-shirt sleeves hugged his biceps, his pecs, outlining his abs in the thin cotton. Elliott pushed away the reminder of just how attractive he was.

“I guess . . .” Elliott swallowed hard. Really,reallyresenting how viscerally aware of Mal’s body he was. Mal’s very presence. All that icy sternness should’ve turned him off. Given him frostbite. But it didn’t. It never had. It just made Elliott more determined than ever to burn it down.

You’re never going to get that chance.

“I got homework to do,” Malcolm said. “See you tomorrow.”

“Eight PM. Library,” Elliott parroted back at him.

Mal shot him one last hard look. “Early, Jones.Early.”

Chapter 3

“You look disgruntled, evenfor you,” Jane said as she slid into the booth across from Malcolm. It was just after ten, and Jimmy’s was still more than half full with students and staff eating a late breakfast. Just like him and Jane.

Last year, he and Jane had shared a hallway, living in singles next to each other.

This year, they were sharing an apartment on the other side of campus.

Jane was on the dance team, and her practices and Mal’s practices often meant they rarely saw each other if they didn’t make specific plans. And Janealwaysmade sure they made plans.

Malcolm didn’t know how this girl, two years younger than himself, sweet with a spine of steel, had ended up deciding he was worth her effort, but he considered her one of his best friends.

Okay.

Hisonlybest friend.

Your only friend.That voice wasn’t his own, but apparently belonged to Elliott. He swatted it away. Annoyed the guy had not only invaded his quiet, ordered life, but his brain now, too.

“Coach called me into his office last night, after practice.”

Jane arched a blonde eyebrow. “Is this why when I got home from my date you were barricaded in your room?”

“I was barricaded in my room because I was studying,” Mal claimed, but it was annoying how right she was.

Jane knew how important his studies were to him—one of the many reasons they got along and he liked her so well—so if she came home and his headphones were on, she’d generally leave him be. He hadn’t felt the need to close the door in ages.

But he had last night.

He still wasn’t sure why Coach’s request had upset him so much.

“Bullshit,” Jane said succinctly, stirring sugar into the cup of coffee Mal had ordered her. “What’s going on? Why is Coach B upset with you?”

“He’s not upset withme. Jones is failing statistics and Coach wants me to tutor him into a miraculously non-failing grade.”

Saying it out loud did not make it magically suck less.

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