Page 24 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

Eli opens his mouth to reply before he concedes that Peter’s correct. “Okay, so where did you grow up?”

“Comer.”

“Huh . . .” Eli searches his brain, wondering if he’s ever even heard of this town.

“It’s in Georgia. Just outside of Athens.”

Well, that explains that slight twang to Peter’s voice that Eli picked up on.

“Oh . . . Well, I’ve also never been to Comer.”

“I’d be more surprised if you had.” Peter swallows a bite of food.

“Well . . . I grew up in the city,” Eli says, since Peter isn’t going to ask him anything. “Went to San José for school where I got my journalism degree.” Eli doesn’t just want to hand out his entire life story, but it’s clear that Peter isn’t going to ask him anything himself. “But I live down in the Castro now. And I’m hoping to get the chance to move up as a staff writer at Vent—that way I can write about things that actually matter—”

Eli stops when Peter yawns.

He yawns.

“I’m sorry, I had an early morning meeting,” Peter tells him, wiping at his eyes.

Eli doesn’t say anything. He just wants to go back home, to call this entire night done and let Peter off easy. But he still wants to see the movie.

“We should go,” Eli tells him, spying Peter’s empty plate. “If you’re finished.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. The movie probably begins soon, huh?”

“Yeah . . .” Eli grabs his phone, desperate to give himself something to do. He rereads the same posts and Instagram captions that he read before Peter arrived, scrolling endlessly until the check is awkwardly delivered.

“I can pay,” Peter offers. “Since I was late. And because I spilled soup on you.”

“Thanks,” Eli huffs. He certainly isn’t going to pretend like he’s grateful. It’s the least that Peter can do.

So maybe chivalry isn’t dead? Eli thinks. Not that anything could salvage this night. Eli believes that Peter could take him back to his apartment and give him the best sex of his entire life and he’d still consider the night a loss.

At least then I could’ve gotten eaten out.

Peter reaches into the chest pocket of his hoodie, then pulls his hand out and goes for the other pocket before he checks his pants pockets. He gropes his entire body, and all Eli can do is sit there and watch as the realization dawns slowly on Peter’s face. Well, that and he imagines just what Peter’s body would feel like if those were Eli’s hands instead.

God, he needs to get laid.

“I think I forgot my wallet at my apartment,” he finally admits.

Eli sighs, leaving his credit card in the server book. He’s not even mad, he’s just . . . he’s numb. He has no emotions over having to shell out the eighty dollars for dinner.

He simply doesn’t care. That’s what he tells himself.

“I’m sorry,” Peter apologizes when the check is returned, and Eli leaves a generous tip for the mess left behind. “I can pay for the movie tickets?”

With what money? he thinks without really meaning to. “I’ve already bought them.” Eli stands, grabbing his jacket. “Let’s just go.”

* * *

Eli’s been to enough movies to know they have plenty of time to spare, despite his love for previews and the Nicole Kidman ad that plays at the start of every movie; it’s no big deal if they miss them. Peter trails behind Eli as they walk up the street to the theater, and their tickets are scanned before they ride the escalator to the second floor to join the concession line. Not a word is exchanged between them, the lights giving Eli ample time to reassess the damage to his shoes.

At least the wet spot at the front of his pants has dried.

Peter’s phone begins to ring again as they approach the front of the line, and Eli can make out the name Joseph (Zelus) on the screen before Peter looks around like he’s been caught doing something illegal.