Page 66 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

“The one with Anne Hathaway, right?”

“Yes!” Eli exclaims.

“Haven’t seen that one either.”

“Most of those I can forgive,” Eli tells him, pointing with a string-cut french fry. “But The Devil Wears Prada, come on.”

Peter shrugs. “I haven’t seen a lot of movies.”

“Or any, it sounds like.”

“I was just never a big movie guy. I saw Spider-Man with my dad; he found the DVD in a Walmart and my mom didn’t want him to buy it but she knew how much he loves Spider-Man.”

“Those are good. I like Sam Raimi.”

“Who’s that?” Peter asks, stealing a fry.

“The director . . . of Spider-Man . . . the first three, at least. Darkman, A Simple Plan, the Evil Dead trilogy?”

“Oh . . . yeah, he’s okay, I guess.”

Eli blinks in disbelief. “The guy’s name is literally at the beginning of the movie.”

“Yeah, but I was like five when I saw it. I hardly remember anything except how scary it was when those guys got turned into skeletons by that bomb.”

“I can see how that’d be traumatizing to a young, impressionable Peter.”

“What about you?” Peter prompts. “If you’re going to sit there and critique my lack of movie literacy, let’s hear about your favorite jazz musicians.”

“I don’t know anything about jazz,” Eli admits.

“See! Not everyone knows everything about everything!”

“Yeah, but movies are . . . they’re movies!”

“And jazz is probably the most influential style and genre of music that’s ever existed,” Peter swiftly elaborates. “Without jazz we don’t have R & B, we don’t get singers like Big Mama Thornton, who helped the formation of rock ’n’ roll as a genre, we don’t get Elvis, and without rock we don’t get disco, eighties pop, the rise of grunge, modern pop music.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Eli nods, eating slowly.

“Can I ask you something?” Peter swiftly switches topics.

Eli smiles. “You just did.”

Peter rolls his eyes, and Eli nods to let him know to ask his question.

“You gave Keith so much of your life.”

Eli waits for Peter to finish his question, but he seems to have let it get away from him. “Yes?”

“I . . . I don’t think I know what I was going to ask.”

Eli can’t help but laugh at that. “Well, what do you think you’re trying to ask me?”

“I guess . . . I guess I’m wondering if you have any regrets about the relationship? Giving him that much of your time when it wound up to be for nothing.”

“Wow . . . huh.” Eli pauses, thinking.

“Iced Americano?” Peter offers.