Page 153 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

“I . . .” Eli starts. “I love you, Peter. And I wish that I’d been brave enough to know that sooner. Just like how I wish I’d been brave enough to leave Vent. I never should’ve agreed to write that article, even if I told myself it was never going to come out.”

More silence.

“I’ve missed you,” Eli admits to him. “I’ve missed eating dinner with you, having to explain my jokes because you don’t get them. I’ve missed . . . I’ve missed hearing you mutter to yourself in Korean when you get frustrated, and I’ve missed hearing your laugh. I’ve missed how you’re the only person I know under the age of fifty who likes jazz, and how you haven’t seen any movies except for the Sam Raimi Spider-Man, and I’ve missed how you dress like a frat bro.”

Eli swallows, the corners of his eyes burning.

“I miss how you smell, and I’ve missed the rough scrape of your hands against mine. And I’ve . . . I miss you, Peter.”

No past tense here.

There’s a pause, one that stretches on long enough to hold the entire universe. Eli stands there; hoping, praying that Peter heard him. And yet, at the same time, he hopes that Peter didn’t. Because he doesn’t want this to not work, he wants—no, he needs Peter to understand him. But he also knows that he can’t control how Peter feels.

“I miss you too, Eli.”

The words feel like they’re holding the world together.

“And I wish I didn’t. I wish that I could be angry with you. But I’m not, and I’ve been wondering what that means because I know I should be mad at you.” Peter pauses. “Because what you did was shitty, what you did sucked. But I . . .”

Eli gives him the space to form his own words.

“I think the most important thing you taught me was that love never makes any sense at all.”

“No, it never really does.”

“And I know I love you,” Peter tells him. “I like the person you helped me become.”

“Is there any chance you’d be willing to see me?” Eli asks. “Even if it’s just for a few minutes. I’d like to apologize to you in person. You don’t have to say yes; please don’t if you don’t want to.” Eli tries to stress this, though his focus on the words starts to sound like pressure to his own ears, so he stops talking.

It’s Peter’s turn to make the decisions. It’s Peter’s turn to take control of his own life, to make the choice to see Eli again.

And he has to be okay with whatever that choice ends up being.

“I wish I could, I’m busy with work tonight. Thanksgiving is only an American holiday.”

“That’s okay.” Eli isn’t sure where they’d even go. Tons of businesses no longer partake in celebrating or decorating for Thanksgiving, but most still take the opportunity to close up shop for Thursday at least.

“How about tomorrow? Is that okay?” Peter asks.

“Yeah, yes!” Eli says before he realizes that he sounds too eager. “I mean, yeah. I’d like that a lot.”

“Okay . . . I’ll see you tomorrow. Mission Rise Coffee okay?”

“Perfect.” Eli stops himself from smiling. Because this isn’t an acceptance of his apology, this isn’t a second chance. But it is something.

What that something is, he doesn’t really know. But it’s more than he had before.

Chapter Twenty-One

Pride & Prejudice, dir. by Joe Wright

Eli puts a hand on his own thigh to stop his leg from shaking, but even that doesn’t really work. He can only hope that the table is doing its job to hide his nerves. Every time the bell above the door dings he can’t stop himself from looking up, hoping and praying that it’s Peter who’s walking through those double doors at the front of the café.

But it isn’t.

Eli double-checks the time. Of course, he got here an hour early, just to make sure he was on time, but still . . . He sips the melted-ice-and-Americano cocktail at the bottom of his cup. One of his new coworkers comes by, collects his glass, asks him how he’s doing. And Eli has to lie and say he’s good, just here to see a friend.

Well, it’s not a total lie, he supposes.