Page 32 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

He could do it. Pretend to write one article, hedge all his bets on another in the hopes that Michael will finally give him a shot.

“But despite all that, bringing you in so much traffic and views, or writing books for the company, I’d still be your secretary?” Eli asks him, prodding further, desperate to see how far he might be able to take it.

If the way Michael’s face shifts is any indication, he understands exactly where Eli is going with this.

“I could do this,” Eli lays it on him. “I could help this guy become a suitable boyfriend, I could teach him to be someone that people will want to date, and I could write your article that’ll bring you all the clicks you want.”

Michael lets out a long, low groan, his head hanging over Eli’s desk. “Go ahead and ask.”

“I want a staff writer job.” There’s actual risk here. If this article isn’t up to snuff, if Michael catches on too early, then Eli can kiss his career goodbye.

Then again, maybe that could be its own reward.

“That’s a tough call, Eli.” Michael’s voice goes quiet, as if he’s afraid that Eli will call him out on his bullshit. There are plenty of empty desks at Vent, and he could help train another secretary to do all the things that he’s used to doing.

“You think this could be big? If it means that much to you, then you’ll give me what I want.” Eli crosses his arms.

Michael sighs. “Then yes. It will be considered.”

Eli raises a brow. “Considered?”

“I will seriously consider you for the staff writing job if you do this. If you do a good job, like I think you will, and if the article meets my expectations as well as the site’s. I’ll even work with you throughout the entire thing.”

Eli doesn’t like the sound of that, Michael being so involved in the process. But it’s clear that Michael wants this so badly. And Eli’s the only one who can give it to him.

“I’ll have to convince him to be a part of this,” Eli says.

“Avoid telling him about the article—you don’t want him to know. You don’t want the experiment to be compromised. If he knows it’s a public performance, he might edit his behavior.”

Well, he won’t know about one of the articles, Eli thinks. “I have to catch him.”

“Then go!” Michael exclaims, catching a few eyes from their coworkers, surprised by the sudden outburst.

And Eli does just that.

* * *

“You want to write about me?” Peter asks from across the table, his hands wrapped around themselves, most of his iced coffee long gone now that Eli has finished explaining the pitch for the article.

“Well, not exactly about you. I’d take pieces of your story, interview you. But I’d also reach a bit wider. It’s less about you, and more about the experience. You’re more of like . . . a framing device.”

“Huh . . .” Peter looks down at the table, picking at some of the tacky aquamarine paint with his fingernails.

Peter was more than a little confused by Eli’s invitation as he caught Peter at the guest checkout. But they’d come across the street to a café that Eli and Patricia both frequented when they needed to escape their respective offices.

“I’ve never been interviewed before,” Peter tells him. “Well, besides for my jobs. And my college-entrance stuff. But never like this.”

“Do you think you could do it?”

“I mean, do you really think this is worth writing about?” Peter asks.

And it’s a fair question.

“Peter, I swear I don’t mean this personally when I say that Friday night was a disaster.”

Peter can’t even lie. “I know.”

“And I think that your experience, or lack thereof, speaks to where you grow up. Thousands of queer people share a story similar to yours.”