Page 133 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

“You know, that moment where you feel like someone might be ‘the one’ or whatever.” Peter laughs. “I feel like an idiot, sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. I’m familiar with the concept.” Eli swallows. “You know, just because you don’t feel this invisible spark on date number one doesn’t mean that the person isn’t the one for you.”

“I know, I know. But still, I guess I was looking for . . . I guess some excitement. It sounds mean, but I don’t think I’d look forward to another date with him.”

“So, you decided not to see him again?” Eli cringes. That’s what he took from Peter spilling his heart out?

“I don’t think so. I mean, we both agreed that it was kind of a bust, which was mortifying at first, but I’m glad we had the conversation.”

“Yeah, of course. Better to have that happen than to drag something out.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Peter’s hesitation is pregnant, and the seconds between his words stretch on for so long that Eli’s worried that the call might’ve dropped at first. “Do you think I did good?”

The question surprises Eli, though he’s not sure why. “I mean, I wasn’t there, so I can’t be sure.”

“Right, right.” Peter laughs. “I wish you had been. I think I would’ve been more relaxed.”

“Were you nervous?”

“Oh, hell yeah. I was so scared, and sweaty too. Thank God I was wearing a jacket.”

“I think the real question here is, do you think you did good?”

“I think I did. I tried to keep in mind the things you taught me, being attentive, asking questions. We didn’t kiss, and I didn’t hold his hand or anything, but . . .” Peter pauses. “Never mind, that’s stupid.”

“What?”

Peter laughs nervously. “I’m not going to tell you.”

“Oh, come on, you have to!”

“Nope, I actually decided that I don’t.”

Eli giggles. “Please,” he begs. “It’s just me, what harm could it do?”

“No, no way.”

“What did we say about honesty, huh? Who else could you share this with other than me?”

More silence from Peter, though Eli can hear his careful breathing.

“I, uh . . . when I got too nervous, I’d picture he was you.”

“Oh.”

“See? It’s embarrassing, who does that?”

“Plenty of people. Though they probably do the underwear trick. I’m not sure if I’d love thousands of people picturing me when they’re nervous.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because . . . I don’t know. I just am.”

“Well, I’m sorry too.”

“Why?”