Page 52 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project
Which is where he collides with a dense—yet oddly soft—wall of muscle, unable to stop himself from toppling back from the force generated by hitting a man square in his chest.
A chest that belongs to Peter.
At least the floor is padded.
“Oh, God, are you okay?” Eli hears Peter ask him. Eli can’t help but laugh as Peter’s face hangs over his, slightly hidden in shadow. “Eli?”
“That’s me.” Eli chuckles softly.
Peter raises an eyebrow. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just my pride, but that was already in shambles anyway.” Eli takes the strong hand offered to him, letting Peter hoist him up without any effort at all. For a moment, just a fraction of a second, he wonders if Peter is strong enough to carry him around.
Just a fraction, though.
“Good, okay!” Peter reaches into his ears, pulling out small earbuds.
“How long have you been here?” Eli takes Peter in, very visibly sweaty in his gym clothes, his tank top showing off the strong arms that Eli had imagined hidden under Peter’s hoodies.
“I came right after work, did some warm-ups, lifting. I was getting my phone and saw that you’d texted me.” Peter shows Eli the screen with his family photo and the missed texts, along with about a dozen missed calls and Slack messages. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I was just worried for a second.” Eli smiles slyly. “Thought you might be late again.”
“The alarms are doing their trick.” Peter beams at Eli, like he’s proud of himself.
“I’m more surprised that you left your phone someplace where you can’t answer it.”
“It makes it hard to concentrate if I’m getting all these notifications and messages.”
“So . . .” Eli nudges, curious. “The gym is important enough to ignore your phone. But our date wasn’t?”
“Well, you know.” His ears go red. “I have to, uh . . .”
“No, I don’t, Peter,” Eli teases. “Tell me what I know.”
“It’s just that, well, it’s like—” It’s funny, seeing Peter so clearly worked up and bothered, but Eli also knows it’s torture to the poor man.
“Peter, relax.” He puts a hand on Peter’s broad shoulder, hoping that’ll ground him, but Peter’s cheeks only turn more flushed. “I’m just messing with you.”
“Right, yeah . . . Right.”
“It’s worth investigating, though,” Eli continues. “Why do you think it’s okay to put your phone away now when you’re working out, but not on a date?”
“I guess it’s like muscle memory in a way,” Peter says. “I mean, I’ve been working out since I was in high school. So maybe force of habit? I don’t know.”
Eli nods, making a mental note to ask Peter more about his high school experiences for the article. “Makes sense. Kind of.” Then Eli stops. “Wait, you had earbuds in, but your phone was in your locker?”
“I just use them for the noise cancellation.” He hands them to Eli, both fitting in the palm of his hand. Sure enough, when Eli tests one of them, there’s no sound. “Did you sign up already?”
“Yeah, actually, and I need to discuss with you how I might die doing this. Like that’s an actual concern?”
“Don’t worry about it, the floors are cushioned.” Peter’s straight line of a mouth finally cracks into a smile.
Eli does a soft bounce on the three-inch-thick black padding that covers the floor. “You’re not inspiring any confidence in me.”
“The climbing section has extra padding. It’ll be fine!” Peter gives Eli a very heavy pat on the shoulder. “Go get ready, and I’ll wait for you here.”
Eli obeys, walking into the locker room, trying his best not to take notice of the gym showers that are just on the other side of the half-wall, the sound of what has to be very naked men laughing about something as Eli leaves his things in a random locker and fixes the Velcro shoes that pinch the tips of his toes.
