Page 25 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

“I, uh . . . I have to take this.” He shows the screen to Eli.

“Okay?”

He can’t even pretend to care anymore. At least during the movie, there’s no expectation to talk. It’ll be two hours of blissful silence, some laughing at Daniel Craig’s terrible Southern accent. So long as Peter doesn’t spill soda on Eli, the date can end peacefully.

Peter steps to the side of the line, near where the bathrooms and the soda fountains are, sticking a finger from his free hand in his ear like he can’t hear the voice on the other end of the line because of the ruckus of the theater.

Clearly frustrated, Peter waves to Eli, then points toward the door on the first level.

Eli nods in acknowledgment, watching as Peter marches down the stairs and walks out the front door.

Eli finally makes his way through the A-List line, grabbing the gourmet cheddar-and-caramel popcorn that he’s rewarding himself with for the awful way the night has gone. He pauses at the drink fountains once his Dr Pepper has been obtained, hoping that Peter will make his way back inside any moment now.

Five minutes pass, then ten, then fifteen, and Eli has to figure that Nicole Kidman has wrapped things up by now.

He takes a screenshot of their tickets and forwards one to Peter, so he’ll have the theater and his seat number before he follows the late-comers into the movie, stepping over people to get to his seat. It’s almost impressive, just how much this man has managed to ruin Eli’s night.

It’s like he feels somewhere past frustration and annoyance. Because he isn’t actually angry. Though he is annoyed at Peter for ruining his shoes, for being late, for barely saying a word to him.

He’s just ready for the night to be over with. For the credits of the movie to roll so he can walk back to the bus stop and go home.

Eli doesn’t really notice at first that Peter hasn’t made a grand reappearance, stumbling over strangers in the dark to get to his seat. He’s distracted for most of the first act, laughing with the rest of the audience. But then he realizes that Peter still hasn’t shown up. He pulls out his phone, carefully angling it against his chest and turning the brightness down before he goes to his texts with Peter. There’s no reply, no “Sorry, emergency.” Or “Give me five more minutes.”

Nothing.

Eli begins to check his phone so frequently—wondering if Peter’s safe, if something bad has happened to him, or maybe if he just stumbled into a different theater by accident—that he can tell it’s bothering everyone around him, earning a side-eye from the guy sitting by Peter’s empty seat.

“Sorry,” he whispers, putting his phone down and trying his best to focus on the movie.

But the magic is lost. As everyone around him loses it at the jokes, Eli just sinks deeper and deeper into his seat, unable to enjoy himself. He sighs, grumbling to himself and making a mental note to book another ticket before the movie leaves theaters.

It strikes him just how sad this is. How, despite actually trying to get back out there, giving someone a chance, he still wound up watching a movie all on his own.

Pathetic.

Then he does something that he’s only ever done once before, when a movie was so horrendously boring that he spent most of the runtime on his phone, not having to worry about bothering any other moviegoers because he was the only one in the theater.

He walks out of the theater before the credits roll.

Not even the popcorn tastes good anymore, the soda long gone. Eli tucks his phone into his pants pocket, and, after a quick trip to the bathroom to pee and wash his hands, rides the escalators down to the ground floor as he attempts to untangle his headphones from being wrapped around themselves in his pants pocket.

He doesn’t even realize that Peter is still outside at first. Not much thought is given to the man on the steps that lead up to the theater, his back hunched, his face hidden from the cold. It’s only when he hears his name through the SZA album playing in his ears that Eli freezes and turns, catching Peter as he runs up to him.

“Wait, Eli. Where are you going?” Peter asks him, the breath puffing around his soft-looking lips. “The movie’s not over, right?”

“No, it’s not,” he says. “You would’ve known that if you were in the theater with me. You know, like you should’ve been.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” He shows Eli the phone screen where the call is muted. “There was a situation at work, and I had to—”

“Actually? Don’t bother. I’m not interested.”

“But I—”

“It’s whatever, Peter. It’s clear that this night didn’t mean that much to you, or else you wouldn’t have spent so much of it ignoring me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he says. “I was actually looking forward to this date.”

Eli scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”