Page 42 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

Peter then reaches into his pocket again, instinctively pulling out his phone before he remembers that it’s off, and he bites at his bottom lip before he hesitates and puts it away. With the phone off, Peter has no choice but to sit there and enjoy the movie that they decide on. Much to Eli’s disappointment, Knives Out has ended its single-week run, meaning they’ve had to select a half-baked horror about a doll that comes to life.

It’s so bad that even Eli Francis, forever the fan of terribly cheesy horror Z-movies like Primal Rage and The Severed Arm, is bored to tears; but he still watches every scene, doing his best to follow the nonsensical plot.

Peter, however, seems to have a terrible time, his face hidden in his hoodie as he closes in on himself. During one particularly bad jump scare, he even yelps with the rest of the audience and grabs for Eli’s hand, not letting go until the credits are rolling.

“Were you really scared?” Eli asks as they ride the escalator down to the lobby. “It was just a doll.”

“A scary doll. I wanted to pee my pants when it started singing.”

“Well, I appreciate you keeping them dry,” Eli says to him as they step into the night. It’s gotten a little cooler since they walked into the theater, but not considerably so. And right on track, Eli watches as Peter reaches into his pocket to dig his phone out once again before he remembers.

“It’s fine,” Eli tells him. “You can turn it on.”

“You said that—”

“Yeah, but you didn’t sneak to the bathroom to check it or reach for it once during the movie. So, consider it a reward for good behavior.”

“Am I going to get those often?” Peter dares to ask.

And Eli smirks. “Only if you’re a good boy.”

Peter pauses, and just like last Friday, the red of the AMC lights paint Peter in a bright red, so Eli isn’t sure what is just the neon and what is Peter’s cheeks lighting up, but he’s sure it’s at least a twenty-five/seventy-five split.

He stares down at the phone, and Eli is a little disappointed, but what can he expect, it’s only been a few hours.

But just as quickly as he turned it on, Peter is sliding the phone back into his jacket pocket.

“Aren’t you going to check it?”

“The date isn’t over, is it?” Peter asks him.

“You turned it on.”

“I have to pay for the bus somehow.”

Eli feels a swell of pride in his chest. Then Peter looks at him . . . well, he looks above Eli.

“You have a, uh . . .” Peter reaches toward Eli’s hair, tugging on something until it comes free, showing Eli the piece of caramel corn that was lodged in his curls. “Sorry, I think that happened when the body fell out of that cupboard.”

“It’s okay.” Eli takes it, tossing it on the sidewalk for a pigeon to feed on later.

“Which bus stop are you?” Peter asks.

“I’ll just walk down to Divisadero.” Then Eli promises, “We can leave things here, though, if you want.”

“I’m headed that way too,” Peter says. “Do you mind the company?”

“Well . . .” Eli smiles. “I won’t say no.”

Eli watches as Peter marches down the steps of the theater to join him. That’s when Eli makes a bold move. He reaches for Peter’s hand, wrapping his fingers around Peter’s. It’s only hitting him now just how much bigger Peter’s hands are compared to his. Of course, everything about Peter is bigger than him, except maybe his hair.

Eli might look like his father, but he got his height from his mother.

“What are you . . .” Peter asks, never breaking stride, only looking at Eli. “Um . . . w-what are you doing?” He stammers his way through the sentence.

“Holding your hand.”

“Why?”