Page 128 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

Peter smiles, but he just as quickly averts his gaze, staring down at his phone.

“You okay?” Eli dares to ask.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You had fun, right?”

Peter’s gaze shoots toward him. “Of course, Eli!” he says a little too quickly. “That was . . . I mean, that was amazing. I just, uh . . . it’s not the sex.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eli falls next to Peter on the bed, resting his chin on Peter’s shoulder. The reason for Peter’s hesitance is immediate, an odd feeling washing over Eli as he sees the Hinge chat waiting on the screen. “Oh.”

His heart sinks.

“We’ve been talking for a few days. But he messaged like an hour ago, when we were . . . you know . . .”

“Fucking?”

Peter’s cheeks turn a soft pink. “Yeah. He wants to go on a date this weekend.”

“Well . . .” Eli readjusts, pulling away from Peter, ignoring the feeling that stirs in his gut. “What are you going to say?”

“I have no idea,” Peter admits.

“Can I see?”

Peter hands Eli the phone, standing. “I’m going to shower.”

“Okay.” Eli scrolls to the stranger’s profile. Lucas is handsome, he loves his golden retriever, he works at a bookstore. He’s six foot two, brown haired, and green eyed. There are a few too many pictures of him with IPAs for Eli to ever take an interest. Eli scrolls far enough up the chat log to see that Lucas liked one of Peter’s photos first.

Lucas: We should meet up this weekend!

That’s it. Peter got a date.

Wasn’t this the point? To help Peter get comfortable with going on dates on his own?

So why does it feel like the end of the world?

Eli’s ears perk up at the sound of Peter’s shower running. He can’t help himself from swiping out of Lucas’s profile, and he’s faced with a page filled with matches. There are a handful of replies from Peter, a few one-sided conversations where Peter either never got or never sent a reply. Then there are a few where the chat began and ended with various versions of “Sorry, no Asians.” Eli’s stomach twists.

It’s a breach of privacy, Eli knows that. He knows that and he can’t help himself from closing the app, finding Bumble among the organized mess of Peter’s home screen. It’s much the same, a bunch of different matches stretching back a week or so. Anyone who’s messaged has been met with no reply from Peter.

This pang slowly eats at his heart. He has to stop himself from swiping through all of these men and unmatching them. The phone vibrates a moment later, and then again, and Eli sees the screen light up with a text from Peter’s mom, and another Hinge message from Lucas.

Eli swallows, tasting the bile on his tongue. He knows that it isn’t too late, that he could tell Peter how he feels right now.

So why doesn’t he?

He throws the phone onto the mattress and lets himself fall back, breathing in the mild scent that lingers on Peter’s clothing. And to think he’d laughed when Peter said they should have some kind of clause in case one of them caught feelings for the other.

“Fuck’s sake . . .” Eli murmurs.

He’s not in love with Peter, he can’t be. This entire situation is built off the idea that he’s not in love with Peter.

He’s not in love with Peter Park.

Eli can’t do that to himself.

The shower shuts off, and Eli listens to the sounds of Peter drying himself off. The door opens, steam spilling from the bathroom as Peter walks back through to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.