Page 51 of Cold as Ice

Elliott entertained himself by imagining the disgusted and pissed off expression on Mal’s face as he read it. Because there was no way Mal would reply to that. As soon as Elliott got flirty, he always disengaged, growing even chillier than normal.

But shocking him again, another text came in.

No,Mal texted,you’d probably enjoy that too much.

And well,sue him, he probably would.

I like you thinking about my kinks,Elliott texted back.

And even though Mal didn’t reply tothattext, Elliott was still grinning as he slipped the phone back into his pocket and tried to drag his attention to what mattered right now: Dr. Prosser’s slides, andnotMal’s assessment of his sexual preferences.

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Prosser distributed their graded quizzes as class drew to an end, and Elliott stared down at the paper on the desk with incredulity.

A C? He’d missed four questions?

That couldn’t possibly be. He’d understood the material. Beendoublysure that he’d understood the material since he and Mal had gone over it carefully. Had he miscalculated something? He didn’t think so. But nothing else made sense.

He flipped the test to the back but there were no comments, even though by glancing around him, he could see that she’d scribbled plenty of notes on his classmates’ quizzes.

Elliott rose slowly and made his way over to where Dr. Prosser was packing up her laptop.

“Hey, Dr. Prosser?” Elliott asked, as politely as he could, even with the panic streaking through him. He couldn’t keep getting C’s. He needed B’s—preferably A’s, in fact—if he wanted to stay on the hockey team.

She glanced up at him, looking even more frazzled than usual. It was funny, her lecture-mode was so different than non-lecture mode.

“Oh yes, hello,” she said.

“I was wondering about my quiz,” Elliott said, extending it in her direction. “I was pretty sure I got all of these right.”

“Well, obviously not?” She shoved her unruly hair behind her ears and looked everywhere but at him. “I’m not sure how much more help I can be.”

That was ridiculous, because she’d been no help at all. Brushing him off every time he tried to talk to her before or after class, and then there were the two times he’d attempted to go to her office hours.

Including the email she’d promised that she’d never sent.

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“Read through the material carefully. Study.” She shrugged helplessly.

"I have been, though," Elliott said, trying to keep his frustration tamped down. "I even got a tutor. I tried to go to your office hours, but you weren't there."

"I've been—I have a sick relative," she finally said. But that was all. She seemed uninterested, or actually more likedistracted, and just brushed him off with a wave of her hand and a, “I’m sorry but I have to go. Email me if you have any more questions.”

It seemed transparent what the issue was. Shedidn’tlike athletes, and she thought he was just blowing this whole class off. But hewasn’t. He’d studied for this quiz. He and Mal both.

Mal had even told him he was ready.

Butreadywas not a C. Elliott didn’t need to be Malcolm to know that much.

“Alright,” Elliott said, not wanting to push too hard. Frankly, he’d never had to beg a professor like this, and maybe she was right. Maybe he just needed to dedicate himself harder to studying.

Well, next time he and Malcolm met up, he’d insist Mal go over every answer he’d gotten wrong, and they’d figure out how he’d miscalculated so drastically she hadn’t been able to give him any points.

He was just walking out of the classroom building when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

It was another message from Mal.

What? Your kinks don’t include me kicking your ass on the ice? See you tonight at practice.

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