Page 94 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

“Because . . .” Peter lets his head hang low. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I’m a grown man reading romance novels. Isn’t that reason enough?”

“No, I don’t think it is. In fact, if you were interested in women, I’d go as far to say that’d be in your favor.”

“It’s cheesy, though.” Peter takes the book, flipping through the worn pages. It’s clear just from the spine that this is either used or a library copy, or one that Peter has read over and over again.

“Peter, honey. Lots of people don’t read at all. Besides, you’re allowed to read what you want. It’s your money and your time. So long as you enjoy it, who cares?”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” he asks.

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know.” Peter shrugs, and he lets a nervous giggle out. “Actually, at one point in time I was using them to try and learn how to date. Before you came along.”

“Seriously?”

Peter nods. “It’s probably a good thing I stopped, or else I might’ve turned into some alpha male douchebag.”

“Hey, come on. Sometimes douchey guys are hot.”

“Seriously?”

“No, I was kidding.”

Peter laughs again.

“Besides, there’s no way that reading romance is any worse than what’s going on up there.” Eli dares to tap Peter’s temple. “Romances are cool.”

“Have you ever read any?” Peter asks.

“No, but I’ve watched plenty. The classics are classics for a reason. When Harry Met Sally . . . , Mamma Mia!, Love & Basketball, In the Mood for Love, The Watermelon Woman.”

“I’ve heard of a few of those,” Peter admits.

“Color me surprised!” Eli exclaims. “But you shouldn’t hide the things that you’re interested in. If someone doesn’t like that you read romance, then they’re not someone worth your time.”

“No, I know. I guess . . . I don’t know. It’s a force of habit,” Peter admits. “I hid the books I read when I was younger, at home with my parents.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Well, for most of them it’s because they were queer. Of course that ended up being for nothing, but I was so terrified to tell my parents about being gay, and I thought they’d know if they saw me reading those books even though they literally never cared about what I was reading.”

Eli’s heart breaks just a little more.

Peter shifts so that he can face Eli. “Can I tell you something without you laughing at me?”

“Of course. I’m not going to laugh at you, Peter.”

“No, like . . .” Peter’s eyes finally meet Eli’s, and Eli can see something different there now. Something new. “I, uh . . .” He pauses, still so unsure of his words, clearly. Eli wishes that he knew the right words, the correct words that could convince Peter that everything is okay, that Eli’s not here to judge him.

Then again, isn’t that exactly what he’s here to do? Isn’t that the entire basis of their relationship? Eli judging Peter, “fixing” him.

“I always wanted to be a writer,” he finally says. “A romance writer.”

“Oh . . .” Eli’s brows furrow, and his face betrays him without meaning to.