Page 113 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

“No . . . no, it’s not.” Michael’s voice is careful, calculated even. “And to be quite frank, I should fire you for wasting my time. Going behind my back, writing something that I didn’t ask for. But I have to admire the balls it took to ignore me and do what you thought was right.”

Then Michael pauses.

“That wasn’t offensive, right? To say you have balls? I can’t keep track of the language these days.”

Eli stops himself from rolling his eyes.

“It’s fine,” he lies. Now’s not the time to bring up Michael’s gross transphobia. “You mean that? Really?”

“I thought I was looking for something more exciting, scandalous. But I can see that you’ve taken the lessons I’ve been trying to teach you to heart. Just not in the way I expected.”

“I am sorry, Michael, I never—”

Another hand stops Eli. “You did the right thing. Well, not the right thing, but the interesting thing. And that’s what I’ve been looking for from you.”

“So . . .” Eli doesn’t want to ask, but he’s realizing that he hasn’t actually gotten confirmation. “You’re going to publish it?”

“Yes, we’re going to publish your story,” Michael tells him with a satisfied smirk.

Eli has to stop himself from leaping into the air.

“That’s, ah, that’s amazing!” He’s at a total loss for words. His heart still pounds in his chest wildly, and his hands shake, almost like there’s too much energy in his body that’s itching to escape. “Thank you so much, Michael.”

“We’ll have to discuss some things. Obviously, I want more eyes on this to see if there are any edits that need to be made. I’ll read through it a few more times. And then there’s your pay. I think we’ll have to do a freelance rate on this since you aren’t officially one of our staff writers.” Michael pauses, as if remembering something. “Which, speaking of.”

Eli feels relief that he isn’t the one who has to bring up the writing position.

“I promised you something,” Michael says. “And I’m not reneging on that—”

Oh no.

“But we do have to wait until we see the reaction to the article before I can offer you anything.”

Fair enough, Eli thinks to himself, though he’d love nothing more than to celebrate tonight with Patricia and Rose. “I understand.”

“But don’t feel down; I’ve got high hopes, Eli.”

“Thank you so much for trusting me, Michael. It means the world.”

“I know.” Michael beams. “Now get back out there. I’ve got an article to edit,” he says with a wink.

“Of course, yeah.” Eli stands, gathering his bag. He hadn’t even let the workday properly start before he’d marched into Michael’s office to tell him the truth. “Thanks again.”

Michael nods, and effectively shuts Eli out until he’s made his quick exit from the office. Eli drops his bag at his desk before he makes a beeline for the bathroom. Once the door shuts, he can’t stop himself.

“Fuck yes!” His words echo off the tiled walls, and his coworkers can probably—definitely—hear him, but he can’t bring himself to care. He jumps, his hands balled into tight fists. “Yes, yes!” He feels . . .

He doesn’t know what he feels exactly.

So many emotions run through his head all at once that he isn’t sure what to face first. What he does know is that it’s happening. Finally. After years of wanting this, of sitting in on meetings with Michael, being told his work is too highbrow or too tough to read, of being afraid to go somewhere else.

It’s finally worth it.

Eli smiles at himself in the mirror, and he feels his chest rising with excitement.

“Finally,” he says to himself.

Then a toilet flushes.