Page 60 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

They walk to the locker room to grab their things and switch shoes.

“Did you drive here?” Peter asks him as they turn in the shoes and the locker keys.

“Oh, God, no. You think I can afford a car?”

Eli watches as Peter heads to a branded bright yellow refrigerator filled with energy teas all bearing the same logo as the fridge. “Do you want a ride?”

“I can wait for the bus, it won’t be that long.”

“But you live in the Castro—that’s like an hour on the bus, plus it’s late.”

“I promise you”—Eli pushes on the bar for the door—“I’ve lived in this city my entire life. I’ll be—” He pauses as they step outside, a gust of wind cutting through the both of them. Since the gym is in the Presidio and therefore right on the northern shore of the Bay, there’s nothing to block the wind coming off the water. And without anything at all to cover himself with, Eli catches every small slice of freezing-cold air Mother Nature has to offer. “Actually, yeah, a ride would be nice.”

Peter leads him to a black car parked around the corner from the gym.

Eli is shivering by the time he makes it to the door, Peter opening it for him. He gives Peter his address in the Castro, then relaxes as the seat underneath him begins to warm his butt. It’s a nice car, something that he’d expect someone in the Bay Area who works a tech job to drive.

But more importantly, it’s not a Tesla.

The real surprise comes when the music from Peter’s phone begins to auto-play and the album artwork for a Miles Davis record comes up, the smooth sounds of a saxophone playing through the speakers.

“Jazz?” Eli stares.

“What? Is that . . . weird?”

“No, just . . . unexpected.”

“What kind of music do I look like I listen to?” Peter asks.

Eli doesn’t really have an answer for him. Partially because neither of them has brought up their taste in music before.

“I don’t actually know.”

“Jazz is nice, relaxing under the right circumstances.”

Of course as Peter says that the song erupts into a fury of drums, saxophone, trumpets, and piano.

Peter lowers the volume a bit. “And other times it’s chaotic and messy and just what I need.”

“I bet you’d love La La Land.”

“What’s that?” Peter dares to ask.

“You haven’t heard of La La Land?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Well . . . it’s a love story about a jazz musician and an actress. There’s a lot of love for the genre throughout.”

“I’ll bookmark it, then,” Peter says, throwing on his turn signal. The darkness of the Presidio makes it difficult to see where they’re going at times, but Peter seems familiar with the route. “You really like movies, huh?”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Eli asks him, feigning offense with his tone.

“No, no. Not at all, I didn’t mean for it to—” Then Peter catches the look that Eli gives him out of the corner of his eye. “You’re messing with me again, aren’t you?”

“You’re learning.”

“You talk about them a lot. Movies.”