Page 26 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

“Eli, I—”

“How about we cut our losses, huh? It’s clear that I’m not your type, you’re not interested, and I’d rather go out with a guy who will actually put down his phone and pay attention. So, we can call it a night here.”

It’s not like he’s ever going to see this man again. Not if he has anything to say about the situation.

“So, thanks.” Eli doesn’t like the wetness behind his eyes. “Thanks for embarrassing me, for wasting my time, and for ruining my shoes.”

He tucks his freezing hands back into his jacket. Maybe that last comment was harsh, but he doesn’t care. It’s not his responsibility to spare Peter’s feelings. At least this way, maybe he’ll take the night to heart, and Eli has saved whomever Peter bothers next from a night of being stood up and ignored.

“Have a good night, Peter.”

Desperate to leave the situation before he truly loses it, Eli walks as fast as his short legs will carry him, praying that Peter hasn’t followed him, that the man isn’t suddenly inspired to course correct the entire night by making some passionate plea to forget the movie, to go out drinking, to karaoke, or bowling, or . . . anything at all.

Eli skips getting on the bus right away, choosing to walk down Divisadero to help clear his head. Peter doesn’t reappear, doesn’t text Eli or try to call him or anything. Eli doesn’t even know if he wants Peter to do any of that. But it’d be nice to be fought for.

The bus comes and, as he steps on and scans his phone to pay the fare, his Spotify auto-plays Laufey. He can’t resist laughing to himself at the absurdity of the night.

Patricia and Rose are both still awake when he walks through the door to the apartment, the loud sounds of an argument between two women on whatever Real Housewives season they’ve put on to kill time in the background, and the smell of whatever they made for dinner lingers.

“Hey, there he is!” Patricia says with a hopeful smile. “How was it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Eli says. His instinct is to go right to his bedroom, but he avoids that, knowing that shutting himself off right now might do more harm than good. He falls onto the couch, laying his head on Patricia’s lap while Rose pulls his legs over to stretch across her own.

“Want a drink?” Rose offers. “Or ketamine?”

“No.” Eli throws his arm over his eyes. “To both.”

“Want to talk about it instead?” Patricia asks.

“He was over an hour late.”

Rose gasps almost hilariously loudly. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head. “I’d already eaten by the time he got to the restaurant. And I was a bottle and a half into the soju.”

“Did he call you?” Patricia asks.

Again, Eli shakes his head. “Then he just kept apologizing for everything. Which was annoying as hell. He pretty much only gave one-word answers, never really asked about me, and then got weird when I said I’m an assistant. The vibes were just incredibly off the entire time.” Eli pauses. “Oh, then he spilled soup on me.”

“I can see that . . .” Patricia glances at Eli’s shoes left at the door. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Eli continues. “He then proceeded to tell me he forgot his wallet, leaving me to pay for dinner after he offered.”

“Huh.” Patricia’s brows furrow together.

“What?” Eli looks up at her. “Do you know something?”

“No, just . . . my friend said that Peter was such a sweet guy. I’m just surprised.”

The way Peter looked at him certainly hadn’t helped, that helpless expression, like he was a lost dog. Which was hilarious coming from someone as tall and strong looking as Peter.

In fact, he feels more and more like a total asshole the longer he dwells on it.

“It was like he’d never been on a date before,” Eli tells them, trying to laugh off the guilt that has crept up on him. “Like I was his first.”

“Well, how do you know you weren’t?” Rose asks him.

“There’s no way.” Eli shakes his head in disbelief. “The dude is hot. Like stupidly attractive. There’s no possible way I was his first date.”