Page 56 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

“We can leave, if you want,” Peter offers.

“No way.” Eli shakes his head. “This is your date. So, we’re staying. Plus, that wasn’t . . . the worst experience in the world.”

“You could argue that me wanting to leave for you shows that I’m willing to sacrifice my own interests in order to make sure you’re safe.”

Eli straightens, staring at Peter. “Where’d you learn that?”

Peter flushes. “I read.”

“Read what, exactly?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter tells him. “At the very least, we can break here for a bit.”

“Thank you.”

“By the way . . . who’s Phoebe Bridgers?”

“Who’s what?”

“Your, um . . . on your butt,” Peter asks, stammering like he’s afraid to say the word butt out loud. “You have the name Phoebe Bridgers. Something about a Grammy?”

“So, you were staring at my butt?” he teases.

“Well, it was in front of my face. I couldn’t really help but notice.”

Eli laughs at that. “She’s a singer. Rose is a big fan; I borrowed the shorts from her.”

“I take it you don’t work out often?”

“What was your first clue?”

“Your form is pretty terrible, for one.”

“Okay, what form can you have for rock climbing?” Eli asks.

But Peter ignores him. “And being afraid to fall.”

“It’s a long drop.”

“You were eight feet up, max.”

“I’d like to see how you climb.”

Peter stands without a second thought, crouching for a bag that sits on the side of the mat. His hands come back white, caked in a chalk dust. He shakes off the excess before he rushes toward a wall marked M-10, grabbing on in a leap of sorts, earning him a head start.

The fake rocks are a color that’s a near-perfect match for the wall, each of them only slightly bigger or smaller than Eli’s balled-up fist, some of them sloped with no visible grips so that Peter has to hang on by the very tips of his fingers. For a moment, his tank top rides up when he reaches for the rock above him, and Eli can see the perfect shape of the man’s ass and the strength being exerted in his calves and thighs as he braces against almost nothing at all with his feet.

In seconds, Peter’s reached the top of the wall, climbing onto the edge to stand with his hands on his hips and a too-proud smile on his face.

“Okay, yeah. I get it.”

Peter slips back off, hanging on the edge as he checks that no one’s below him before he drops, falling into a perfect squat on the mat. Of course, the uneven flooring causes him to fall backward, but there’s no fear in his eyes, only a little heaving in his chest and a thin coat of sweat on his skin. Eli stands, offering a hand to Peter to help him up, though he isn’t sure what good it does.

“Thanks.”

“You’re a showoff, you know that?” Eli braces himself as best he can, hoping Peter doesn’t take him to the floor as he hoists himself up.

Peter smiles at him, the corners of his mouth disappearing into his dimples. “You’re okay at it. You just need to learn to fall.”