Page 57 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

“Yeah, I’ve never been the greatest at that,” Eli tells him, wiping the fine layer of chalk now on his hand onto his black tank top, leaving faded white streaks. “I was too afraid to learn to ride a bike because of it.”

“You can’t ride a bike?” Peter seems genuinely amused by the information, a soft sound slipping past his lips.

“Okay, okay! You know, it’s not that big of a deal. Plenty of people can’t do things.”

“No, I mean . . . I didn’t mean to laugh at you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eli picks up his own water bottle. “You can laugh; it is pretty embarrassing. Every time my friends ask me if I want to go riding down to Crissy Field or the Great Highway, I have to fake a backache or say I’m too busy.”

“You could still learn.”

“Isn’t there some statistic about it being harder to learn to ride a bike as an adult than it is as a kid?”

Peter’s thick brows furrow. “I think that’s ice-skating. Or the violin?”

“Either way, I think I’m safer on two legs. The people in this city can’t drive anyway.”

“Fair.”

“Okay, so . . .” Eli sets the water bottle down, turning toward Peter once again. “If I’m going to learn to do this, be my teacher.”

“Your teacher?”

Eli nods. “I’m your dating coach; be my climbing coach. Where do we start?”

Peter just stares down at Eli, smiling that smile that’s already become so familiar. “Okay, okay . . . let’s go over here.”

* * *

Eli’s body aches, his arms feel like jelly, his thighs are burning, he feels like he can’t catch his breath, and he’s so sweaty his hair has become permanently plastered to his forehead.

And it’s been barely thirty minutes.

“I don’t like this wall.” They’d decided to let Eli stick to the N walls, though he’d managed to graduate from the N-0 to the N-4.

“You can’t learn if you don’t challenge yourself,” Peter says from his spot right next to Eli. It’s like he’s deliberately showing off, the way he follows Eli’s every step during his climbs with ease. “Make sure you’re keeping your center of gravity closer to the wall, falling back only forces your body to work harder.”

“That much I can do.” Once again, Eli’s cheek is rubbed red from just how close he rests while holding on to the wall.

“Okay, go for this one next.” Peter taps on the blue rock that’s just out of Eli’s normal reach.

“I can’t. I have short arms.”

“Your arms are average,” Peter tells him. “And you just have to go for it, lunge. Get some momentum going and grab it.”

“What level did you say this wall was again?”

“Novice five.”

“That doesn’t seem accurate.”

Peter shrugs. “Sometimes they’re a little loose with the ratings. But you can do this, come on. Just brace your foot here, bend the knee, and go for it!” Peter’s excitement somehow works its way through Eli’s nerves.

“Okay, okay, yeah. I can do it,” he says, mostly to himself.

Eli does exactly as he’s told, bending his knees and lurching forward. It’s not quite a jump, because there isn’t enough room for that much force. But Eli still goes for it, feeling as inspired as he ever has.

Except he misses the hold.