Page 36 of Cold as Ice

Mal had a sparse, efficient style that probably worked great for the business papers he wrote, but was entirely wrong for the narrative style the professor was asking them to emulate.

There was no personality whatsoever in it, and very little detail. But then . . .Elliott wondered if heknewMalcolm’s personality.

He was quiet, yes, and intensely focused, but once he thought about it, Mal did have a dry sense of humor. He didn’t talk alot, but what he said was always funny in that know-it-all, smart-ass kind of way.

It suddenly occurred to Elliott that was maybe why he kept trying to make the guy talk. Because whatever he said was always interesting, and usually funny, too.

“Well, am I hopeless?” Mal asked.

They were still pressed up together. There was potentially room on the other side of Mal that he could’ve used to give them a little more space, but he hadn’t moved into it.

Elliott told his mind—and his cock—not to read too much into that particular situation. But his dick wasn’t really paying attention. It was close to the super hot guy whom he’d been fantasizing about forever, and Elliott was grateful he’d changed into his loosest sweatpants after the game.

“No,” Elliott said. He leaned back. Enjoying the way Mal’s arm, draped over the back of the booth, seemed to frame him.

“Just no? That’s really fucking reassuring,” Mal retorted.

“No, you have a personality and you can show it, in the text here. You just haven’t yet.”

Elliott pointed to a spot in the narrative, where Mal talked about the first game they played this year. “You don’t want to just say here, we won, two to one, and the opponent was the Ducks. That’s not the point.”

“Okay, whatisthe point?”

He could feel Malcolm tensing now.

“Hey, hey, you’re fine,” Elliott soothed and gave him a reassuring squeeze on his other arm.

“Maybe I’m annoyed that you’re all up in my business,” Mal retorted. But there was no heat in his words.

Elliott just chuckled. “Sure. Let me just finish this. So . . .it’s the first game of the year. How do you feel?”

The look Malcolm gave him was full of disbelief. “How did Ifeel?”

Elliott nodded.

“Uh . . .I don’t know. I guess I was ready to start the season. To get back on the ice.”

“Readyisn’t a feeling, Mal,” Elliott reminded him.

“Okay, uh . . .I was excited. A little nervous.” Mal shot him a glance. It felt as good as a caress. “I was worried, too. Anxious that maybe we wouldn’t gel as a line. But mostly excited. It’s a good feeling, like right before you step on the ice for the first game.”

“Yeah,” Elliott said. “Usethat. Talk aboutthat.”

“I know this’ll come as a huge surprise, but I don’t spend much time focused on my feelings.”

Elliott probably could’ve guessed that, but then, he’d always seemed pretty worked up emotionally about Elliott himself.

Maybe Mal wasn’t as immune as he kept pretending.

After all, he preferred to pretend those pesky emotions didn’t exist at all.

“Really?No,” Elliott said, faking a shocked gasp.

Malcolm rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. It was only with the corner of his mouth, but that was enough. Elliott fucking loved it.

“And that,” Elliott added, “is more like what you should be including.”

“Sarcasm?”

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