Page 51 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

“We’ll go out next weekend.”

“Mom, I don’t want to scare him.”

“You’re saying I’m scary?” she asks.

“Maybe a little bit,” Eli teases. It’s just that Peter was a nervous wreck meeting Eli for the second time. “I’m just taking things slow.”

“Well, he seems nice.”

“You don’t know him,” Eli says.

“I know, but I’ve got that sixth sense. A mother always knows.” She points a finger. “And this Peter looks like a nice boy.”

Eli’s inclined to agree.

Peter’s a very nice boy.

Maybe even too nice for his own good. Though Eli isn’t sure he can say the same about himself. No, scratch that. He knows he isn’t good. If he were, he wouldn’t be lying to two different people about the intentions of his articles. But that’s all these are, articles. That’s it. That’s what Eli tells himself at least.

And that’s all they have to be.

Chapter Seven

Dog Day Afternoon, dir. by Sidney Lumet

“You’ll just need to sign this waiver here,” the gym instructor informs Eli as she slides the iPad across the counter.

“There’s a waiver?” Eli glances over the pages-long document, swiping through paragraphs upon paragraphs of legal jargon.

“Yeah,” the gym instructor, Helen, according to her nametag, says in a voice far too chipper over a document that includes the words We are not liable for your death, accidental or otherwise. “It’s standard stuff, just acknowledging that you know the risks of rock climbing and using the equipment. Now, do you know if you’ll be bouldering or rope climbing?”

“Umm . . . I don’t actually know.” His attention is now divided between the waiver in front of him and the odd harness that Helen is showing him. “My friend, he’s the one who invited me.”

A friend who is still nowhere to be seen.

Eli texted before he left, on the long bus ride from the Castro to the Presidio, and even waited outside to see if Peter would meet him there.

Nothing.

“Here, we’ll get you a harness, just in case. And what size shoe are you?”

“I’m an eight.” Eli signs the document with his finger without reading the rest of it. “Why?”

“Because you need climbing shoes.” Helen dips below the counter before she springs back up with a pair of ugly white shoes with a red strip down the center.

“Is this Velcro?” Eli asks, inspecting them closely.

“Yeah, they’re specifically made for climbing.”

And for making grown adults look like five-year-olds, he thinks. “Thanks.” Eli hands back the device to her in exchange for the shoes, climbing harness, and a locker key.

He steps away from the front desk, following the signs that lead him toward the locker rooms. It’s been a little over a decade since he was in a gym, and he’d spent most of that time on the bleachers, lying about his period to get out of dodgeball.

All of a sudden, he feels out of his element, watching people lift, press, and lunge with little to no effort. He doesn’t even own any proper workout clothes, just sweatpants that he only uses for lounging around the apartment, and Peter said he should wear shorts or tights to avoid snagging.

So he had to borrow clothes from Rose and Patricia, which is why he’s currently sporting a tank top that drapes too loosely on his body and makes it look like he isn’t wearing any shorts at all. Normally he might mind being thought of as a total pervert, but the shorts advertise the phrase phoebe bridgers was robbed at the 63rd annual grammys written across his ass, so maybe it’s for the best that they’re hidden.

“Peter . . .” Eli sings softly. “Where are you?” He checks his phone again, typing a quick i’m waiting for you text before walking into the locker room.