Page 63 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

And Keith, well. He can’t stand not being involved.

“Is there something that we forgot to talk about?” Keith asks, sidling close to Michael.

“No, no,” Michael says, closing his laptop. “I just need to talk to Eli about a project he’s doing.”

“A project?” Keith can’t hide his confusion, even daring to check his notebook. “I wasn’t aware of any project Eli was assigned to.”

“No, you weren’t,” Eli can’t help but cut in.

Michael gives Keith a sympathetic look. “It’s a private project, just between Eli and myself.”

“Oh, are you sure I don’t need to sit in on this one? Maybe I could offer some . . . advice?”

Eli isn’t surprised. Keith has a habit of sticking his nose in where it isn’t needed. There was a time when Eli thought of that as a helpful quality; sometimes Keith was able to offer sound advice, or he saw a typo or error that Eli hadn’t. Other times Keith rewrote entire paragraphs of the articles Eli had given him to read through, even making the writing worse sometimes. Eli hates himself for how much he let Keith get away with.

“I appreciate it, Keith. But we don’t need your input on this one.”

Eli feels a swell of pride at the disappointment on Keith’s face.

“Okay, well . . .” Keith raps his knuckles on the table. “Just give me a call if I’m needed.”

“You won’t be,” Eli says. Sure, maybe it’s not the most professional reaction, but Michael sure doesn’t care.

Keith shoots him a glare before he gathers his things, tucking his Apple Pencil into the pocket of his shirt as he walks out of the meeting room. For a moment, once the door is closed, he lingers, his eyes meeting Eli’s again through the pane of glass.

“So, I’ve been reading what you have so far, and it’s good stuff,” Michael says, taking the seat at the head of the table once again. “You’re selling me on how much of a loser this guy is.”

Eli swallows. Working on two articles at the same time isn’t exactly a walk in the park, especially when both are meant to be career defining.

“Don’t call him a loser, Michael.”

Sure, Eli had gone a little harsh in the fake article, knowing exactly what Michael would want to read. It’d felt awful, at first, lying about Peter, exaggerating their interactions, playing up his social and romantic incompetence. But the more Eli told himself that no one besides him and Michael would ever read it, the easier it became.

“Barks like a dog, looks like a dog, must be a dog.” Michael smiles. “The guy is almost thirty and hasn’t been on a single date yet? Pretty pathetic.”

“Maybe you feel that way, but I think a fantastic angle for us to explore would be expectations in the queer community.” Eli can’t help himself. The sooner he wins over Michael for this better idea, the easier this whole scheme gets. “How a lack of experiences prevents you from learning anything about dating, intimacy, making connections. Peter comes from a really small town, so there was no one for him to have learned from. No community for him to find comfort in.”

“Ah, Eli!” Michael throws his head back. “You’re killing me.”

“What?”

“You keep wanting to make this deep and meaningful. Just write the article, talk about how much of a dud this guy is, how you’re fixing him, and we’re good! We don’t need anything more than that.”

“But—” Eli tries to interject, and Michael stops him with a hand.

“Eli, I’m trying to help you here. I want you to learn,” Michael waxes on. “You’re writing about dating. Nothing else.”

“Why can’t dating be profound?” Eli asks.

“Because it’s dating. Get over yourself and write the story. Okay?”

Eli swallows. “Okay, yeah. I’ve got it.”

“When are you seeing him again?”

Eli pulls his phone out, double-checking his last messages from Peter. “Today, actually. We’re having lunch.”

“Good. And I like this note for him to meet your parents, that’s a smart idea. See, that’s what I’m looking for! Chase that lead, not whatever nonsense your journalistic integrity is pulling you toward.”