Elliott shifted his weight, watching as Malcolm set his phone down on the tabletop and he reached behind, using his fingers to work out the tenseness in his neck.
Heknewhe should go over there. Stop staring. Stop theorizing. Stop wondering if that might be why Mal was the way he was—because he’d beenbuiltthat way.
Battered into acquiescence against a set of inexorable expectations.
Elliott resolved to be nicer. Somehow. Without losing his edge. Without sacrificing anything.
He turned and walked back to the front counter, eyed the guy who was behind it.
“Hey,” Elliott asked, “did the guy over that way order yet?”
The guy looked bored, but glanced over in the direction Elliott was pointing. He shook his head.
“Okay, good.” Elliott proceeded to order a giant Italian sub and two smoothies. The peanut butter banana for him and the strawberry pineapple for Mal. He knew he liked sweet things and whenever they got shakes at Jimmy’s, healwaysgot strawberry.
This time when he approached the table, he didn’t walk quietly, but advertised his entrance loudly. Grumbling under his breath and sliding into the other side of the booth in a pile of flailing limbs, tossing his backpack next to him on the bench seat.
Mal’s eyes were shadowed, but a moment later, the pain was gone, smoothed over like he’d never felt it.
For a split second Elliott almost resented the knowledge he’d just inadvertently come by. He didn’t really want to feel sorry for Malcolm. It felt uncomfortable.
It would’ve been so much easier to just keep lusting after and bickering with the guy.
But now, Elliott already knew nothing would be that simple or easy again.
“Hey,” Elliott said. “I ordered for us. Italian sub. Strawberry pineapple smoothie for you.”
If Mal asked, he was going to say,did you think I wasn’t paying attention?And he was going to repeat it, if needed, and hopefully make it clear it wasn’t just because Mal was really fucking great to look at.
Sure enough.
“How did you—” But then Mal stopped abruptly mid-sentence and took a deep breath. “Thanks,” he said, finally, in a much softer tone.
“You took off pretty quick after the game,” Elliott said.
He didn’t think Mal would tell him anything. After all, he’d never heard Malcolm mention his dad, not once. He was goodenough friends with Ivan, and even with Ramsey, that he had a feeling Mal might have confided in them—but nothing in the last year and a half had made Elliott think that they knew anything either.
This was a secret Malcolm held close to his chest, and he wasn’t about to confess it to Elliott.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try, anyway.
“Yeah, I . . .uh . . .my dad called. I wanted to call him back.”
Maybe it was a little wrong, but Elliott pretended ignorance. “Your dad didn’t know when your games were? I swear to God, my family knows my schedule better than I do. My three sisters—”
“You have three sisters?” Malcolm interrupted.
“Yep,” Elliott said wryly. “Three older sisters. And yes, it’s like having four moms, but they’re really active on the sister chat during the season. They share livestreams and stats and everything. It’s great.”
“Ah,” Mal said noncommittally, and Elliott realized a second too late that maybe he shouldn’t have shared too freely—he’d hoped that by sharing he might get Mal to reciprocate a bit, but instead Mal seemed to have shut down. Maybe because his dad was not nearly as invested in Evergreens hockey as his sisters were.
“Does your dad ever come to games?”
“No,” Mal said, with no additional explanation. It was clear he didn’t want to be asked any more questions about his father. Which, of course, only made Elliott want to ask themmore. But before he continued to push, he remembered Ramsey’s advice.Get him to want you.It also went along with . . .make him want to tell you.Elliott resolved to try that, instead. Not being pushy. But by being open.
“How did you know I wanted the strawberry pineapple smoothie?” Mal asked, and it was such a blatant attempt tochange the subject Elliott almost wanted to call him on it, but that wouldn’t serve his goal, so he let it go.
Let Mal take the win.