Page 28 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

Unfortunately, Peter is indeed Eli’s problem.

He doesn’t hear a peep from Peter all weekend, not that he’s hoping to hear from him. But there’s that uncertain, fleeting desire that springs to life when his phone screen lights up with a weekend email from Michael or a text from Patricia while she’s out grabbing groceries.

Eli hates that he wants something, some acknowledgment, or another apology; but by Monday he’s promised himself that he’s ready to move on, to forget about Peter.

Until Michael pops his head in the door of the break room during Eli’s lunch break, just as Gwen from IT is showing Eli the LEGO Rivendell set she spent the weekend building with her wife.

“Eli?” Michael looks weirded out, an unfamiliar expression to Eli in the years he’s known him. “There’s a man here to see you.”

“A man?” Eli can’t help his confusion. “Who is it?”

“No idea!” Michael says with a smile before he disappears just as quickly as he appeared.

“Scorned lover?” Gwen asks, sipping her coffee.

“Actually, you might not be that far off,” he tells her, throwing away the empty cup of ramen. He can’t explain why, but it’s like he can tell it’s Peter before he even walks out into the main office, their eyes meeting far too late for Eli to make a run for it.

Where would that get him, though? Eli already knows that Peter isn’t a dangerous guy. He doubts that there’s a malicious bone in Peter’s body. Besides, Eli’s suffered through worse. Vent isn’t nearly controversial enough of a website anymore to warrant any kind of attack on the building or any of its staff, but there have been occurrences over the years, people needing to be escorted out of the office whether they be ex-employees, people who sent digital threats in their email or from Twitter, the subjects of articles who promise to sue them for slander. And Eli can remind them that in print, it’s libel.

That still doesn’t knock out the creep factor of Peter showing up at the office, though.

“Eli, I was hoping we could talk. I just wanted to—” Peter begins to say before Eli takes him by the hand, dragging him down the length of the office—the attention of a few of his coworkers now focused squarely on the both of them—and pulls Peter into a meeting room.

Not that it gives them much privacy—the modern design of the building means that there’s an entire wall of glass that leaves them on full display for the rest of his coworkers. But at least no one can hear them.

“You’ve got a tight grip . . .” Peter holds his wrist when Eli lets go of him.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“You told me where you work,” Peter says. “During the date.”

“Yeah, okay.” As if that makes this better. “Still, what are you doing here?”

“I . . .” Peter’s expression sinks, his gaze refusing to meet Eli’s. “I wanted to apologize for . . . for Friday.”

“Peter, please look at me,” Eli asks of him.

And Peter does just that. In the cool, sterile light of the office’s modern design, it almost surprises Eli just how warm Peter’s brown eyes are. There’s a comfort to the color of them, like a burning fire on a rainy day. Of course, the fireplace in Eli’s apartment is closed off, so he’s had to manage with those ten-hour-long YouTube videos of fake fireplaces, but the sentiment is still the same.

“Did you really think that showing up here, in front of everyone that I know, was the best way to go about that?”

“I . . .” Peter trails off, clearly indicating that this is the first time he’s ever thought this might be an issue. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— I just thought that I—”

“Okay, fine. Peter. I forgive you or whatever, just get out of here.” Eli talks with his hands before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please.”

“You didn’t give me an actual chance to apologize,” he says.

“What?”

“You accepted an apology that I didn’t give you,” Peter elaborates. “I just said that I wanted to apologize.”

“Okay, well . . . then apologize.”

“Oh, uh . . .” Peter stares down at his feet, his hands gripped together. He’s still wearing the same hoodie as the other night, except this time he’s got on a crew-neck sweatshirt underneath, and his hair is a little less neat. Yet somehow, he’s even cuter than he was on their date night.

“Well?” Eli stares expectantly. “I’ve got work to do, Peter.”

“Sorry, I just . . .” Peter pauses before he apparently decides to go for broke, to let it all out. “I’ve never really been on a date before.”