Page 99 of Cold as Ice

“I hear you thinkingveryhard over there,” Elliott said in a teasing voice. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He hadn’t asked if Mal still wanted to do this, but Mal heard it anyway, even though it was unsaid.

The last thing he wanted Elliott to think was that he didn’t want this. Because he did,badly.

“I’m not going to be very good at this, so . . .uh . . .temper your expectations. Kind of like the sex,” Mal said under his breath.

Elliott’s smile softened, and it was he who reached for Mal’s hand, squeezing it firmly. “I told you, you don’t have to worry about that. Plus, we’ve been on dates, before, haven’t we?”

“Have we?”

“All those study sessions? Even a few at Sammy’s. Once you bought my dinner and then I bought yours.”

“Those werestudy sessions,” Mal emphasized.

“If you want to think so?” Elliott shrugged. “I like to think of them asstudy dates.”

Mal had not considered them that way. Or when Elliott had brought it up, during one of them, he’d deliberately shoved that thought away. He’d still been living under extreme denial then, perpetrating the delusion that he didn’t really like Elliott at all.

“Of course, that doesn’t mean you can whip out a textbook tonight and deflect,” Elliott joked, nudging him.

“I . . .I wouldn’t. I don’t want to.” Mal took a deep breath. “I want to do this right.”

“We having fun?”

“Well—”

Elliott laughed. “Wrong question. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Icanhave fun,” Mal insisted, not just for Elliott’s benefit, but maybe for his own, too.

“Alright, you can. Question’s still on the floor, though.”

That was another reason he liked Elliott so much. He wasn’t a pushover. He had a strong spine and he didn’t break, only occasionally bent. And even more, he’d never let that strength control him. Change him.

“Are you there? Then, yeah. I’m having a good time.” It was hard to be so honest. To bare his truths like this, but how could he do anything else when Elliott had already done it on Halloween?

“Good.” Elliott pulled the door to Star Signs open and ushered him inside. “What do you want to do?”

“Food, and then we can uh . . .play some games?”

Mal had never really played games. Anthony McCoy hadn’t thought they were a good use of time, and even the hockey Mal loved had been turned into something more. A college scholarship. Then even more—a stepping stone to an even more prestigious future.

“Sounds good.”

They ordered nachos and hot dogs from the little snack stand, and as Mal helped to carry their food to one of the tables, Elliott joked, “Now I know why you wanted to come here. You couldn’t wait to see me put some sausage in my mouth.”

“Why would I, when I could have the real thing?” Mal knew he was a shitty flirt, but hecouldbe honest.

“Now, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Elliott sat down and fluttered his eyelashes. Nowhewas a fantastic flirt. Mal had hated it, at first.

No, you just hated it when it wasn’t directed solely at you.

It was annoying how his subconscious wouldn’t even let him lie to himself.

“Harder than you’d think,” Mal admitted.

“Well, don’t sprain anything.” Elliott dipped a tortilla chip into the bright yellow fake cheese. “Now what’s your game? You likethe video games? The car ones? Foosball, like Ramsey and Finn? Pinball, maybe?”

---