Page 11 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

“Well, meeting someone else does wonders for you,” Patricia adds, sprinkling a little salt on the wound. Eli can’t roll his eyes fast enough. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Roll your eyes. You haven’t gone out with us in months, let alone on a date with someone.”

He huffs. “I haven’t felt like it.” He hasn’t felt like much lately.

“But you’ve felt like going to the theater down the street to watch some weird black-and-white Swedish movies from the fifties?” Patricia gives Eli a look that’s supposed to make Eli feel ashamed, but that sounds like a perfect night to him.

Eli turns defensive. “I only have four more Bergman movies to watch before I’ve seen all of them in my Criterion set.”

“God . . . That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” Patricia sighs, finally pushing Eli off her lap to walk to the kitchen and grab another beer since Rose had snatched hers. “The point is that, like Rose said, it’s different for everyone. And you’re not going to get over these feelings just sitting alone and doing nothing all day except going to a job you hate and watching movies a hundred years older than you.”

“But I like staying inside and watching movies,” he says. “And the job is . . . the job is the job. There’s nothing I can do about that.”

Patricia stops her sip short. “We’re not even going to touch on Vent right now.”

“You could at least try to date. It seems like all the guys you showed us were perfectly fine,” Rose says. “But you always found some imaginary problem with them.”

“I don’t want to date,” Eli tells them both. “I’m done with that part of my life.”

“You’re twenty-eight,” Patricia reminds him. “Stop being so dramatic.”

“I had my soulmate,” Eli says, his words slurring softly. “And he broke up with me. So, it’s done. I’m done. No more guys for ol’ Eli.”

“Jesus.” Patricia throws her head back. “You’re far too young to be so jaded about love, Eli.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s my choice.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Eli can see Patricia’s and Rose’s eyes meet from across the apartment. Patricia crosses the living room in just a few strides, walking back over to where Eli rested his head, nudging him to sit up straight, but he doesn’t budge.

“What?”

“I want to sit here and your head is in the way,” she says, trying to take the arm of the couch.

“You can’t make me move,” he tells her. Except Patricia’s day includes regular exercise and weight lifting, meaning that she absolutely can make Eli move if she wants to.

And she does, pulling him into an upright position and sliding in behind him.

“What’s going on?” he asks, aware that he’s now surrounded.

“We’ve needed to talk to you,” Rose says bluntly. “Pat, you wanna go first?”

“What’s going on?” Eli repeats, slower this time.

“Think of this as . . . an intervention—” Patricia starts to say.

And Rose hops right on the ride. “A You have no life and it’s getting pretty sad intervention.”

“Jeez, don’t spare my feelings.” Eli brushes his hair away from his face, thinking about how badly he needs a haircut, but also how Keith loved the shaggier look of his curls. How Keith would play with the strands, twirling them with his finger, or even washing Eli’s hair for him in the shower because he found it relaxing.

“Rose and I have been talking, and we really think it’d be good for you to get back out there for yourself.” Eli feels Patricia’s hand on his knee.

It’s in this moment that he realizes this is a serious conversation. Not the half-baked kind where Patricia and Rose would drop the topic after a minute or two. “I told you I’m fine.”

Rose snorts. “You really aren’t, dude. Only people who aren’t fine say ‘I’m fine.’”

“Rose!” Patricia hisses.