Page 19 of Flirty Dancing

19

Caught

Archer’s feet wanted to climb, up and away, far from the lights, from the people, from The Broadway Broad . They climbed until he found himself at the grassy clearing high above the lake, short of breath and staring at the rock he and Mateo had rested on after blocking out their pas de deux.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK,” he spat. How could he have messed up so badly? Mateo had trusted him, confided in him. And now… Archer shuddered to think.

He slumped onto the rock and sat there long enough that he started to shiver as his sweat cooled, but he still had no desire to move. He wished he had never come to Shady Queens. That he had never even come to Manhattan, chasing his stupid dream. If he hadn’t signed a contract for the summer, he would have packed his bag and gone back to Ohio at that moment.

He sat there longer still until his phone buzzed.

You alright? It was Betty.

He sighed and wanted to ignore it, but also didn’t want Betty to send out a search party. No.

It’s okay, Archer. Everyone can see that Caleb was clearly the shitty person here. We’re all super pissed at him.

Well, Mateo is pissed at me.

He’ll be okay once he has time to process it.

That’s what you said about Caleb. Now they both hate me.

Three dots, then no reply. Archer waited. Betty couldn’t argue with that. Then she started typing again. Please come back. It’s late. Get some sleep and we can sort it out in the morning.

I’ll be back soon. I just need a bit more time.

Promise?

Promise.

The moon crept above the hills, so distant and tranquil, while words careened through his head. Angry words for Caleb. Ugly, furious words. And words for Mateo—anything for his forgiveness. Pathetic words. Inadequate words. When he ran out of words, he could do nothing but trudge back down the mountain.

Archer woke up Sunday morning after a few scant hours of shut-eye, remembered everything that had happened, then buried his head under his pillow and fell back asleep. The next time his eyes cracked open, it was Sunday afternoon. He ignored Betty’s texts, other than to let her know he was alive and safe in his bed. But he did stare at his phone a long while still, all those goddamn words back and crashing around in his head.

I’m so sorry, Mateo.

It’s all my fault. How can I make it up to you?

I never should have said anything to Caleb. I don’t blame you for being angry.

Please don’t hate me.

He finally sent a message around three o’clock, heart pounding as he typed. Mateo, I want you to know how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have told Caleb anything. He was saying all this stuff that wasn’t true and I only wanted to explain. I realize now that I totally fucked up. I’m so, so sorry.

There was no reply.

Archer didn’t leave his room the entire day, except to use the bathroom, surviving on water, granola bars, and a bruised apple from his bag. Some silly phone games and a few YouTube rabbit holes kept him at least a little distracted. Ben and Beau tried unsuccessfully to engage him in conversation—they reported that Mateo and Caleb appeared to be hiding in their rooms all day, too—and otherwise let him be.

His sleep was racked with unsettling dreams that night. They were snatches of his New York life—walking the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, running to catch a train in Grand Central, at The Fiddler with Lynn—but Mateo was there in all of them, a dark, brooding presence, hovering just behind him. Judging. Blaming. Every time Archer jolted awake, sweaty and pulse racing, it was like Mateo was still in the room with him.

He was completely exhausted when he woke up Monday, and the idea of facing Mateo at the theater made him want to vomit. Never mind what he wanted to say to Caleb—Archer didn’t know if he would end up yelling or crying. Or both.

Groaning, Archer sat up, then reached for his phone on the off chance that maybe—maybe—Mateo had replied.

He had not.

There were several texts from Betty, though. Archer! Come on, bud. You have to leave your room eventually. I’m coming to pick you up at noon and we’re getting lunch.

Okay? Okay!

Seriously, are you awake?

I’m on my way. Get your ass out of bed.

There was a sharp rap at his door. It was noon on the dot.

“I’m sleeping!” he called.

“And I’m coming in,” Betty replied. She cracked the door open, then pushed it all the way when he didn’t protest. “Hey,” she said when she saw him. “You okay?”

He almost wanted to laugh. “Still no.”

She sat on the desk chair. “Look, Caleb is the problem here. You slipped up, he was a malicious asshole.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Archer sighed. “Mateo got hurt because of me.”

“Intentions matter, Archer. They matter a lot.”

“The outcome is the same.”

She tilted her head and studied him, as if she were searching for something heartening to say but couldn’t come up with a thing.

Curiosity got the better of Archer in the silence. “Have you talked to Mateo?”

She shook her head. “No. But I am sure he won’t be as mad as you think. And you have to face him eventually.” She stood. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I need to shower.”

“I’ll wait.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t, you love me. Now go clean up. You look like hell.”

Admittedly, he did feel a little better after a shower and a proper meal. But that feeling vanished when he walked into the greenroom early, and there was Mateo.

Mateo saw him and turned to walk away, but not before Archer saw his face darken.

Archer’s insides clenched. “Mateo?” Only a couple of the others were already there, and they were sitting across the room chatting. He had to say it now before he lost his nerve.

Mateo paused, shoulders tensed.

Archer swallowed hard and continued in a low voice. “I’m sure you got my text, and I know you don’t want to talk to me, but… fuck, I’m so sorry. Caleb was way off base, saying all these things that weren’t true, so I only tried to explain…” He trailed off, knowing exactly how pathetic it sounded out loud. “Mateo, I would never—”

“Never what?” Mateo snapped, whipping around to face him, voice raw and rough. “Hurt me? Betray me? Humiliate me? Because you did all three. Christ, I told you about my parents—” He took a step backward, shaking his head. “Leave me alone, Archer. We are not friends.”

The blood drained from Archer’s head. Dizzy, he reached for a chair to steady himself. “That’s fair, but… I want you to know I’ll never mess up like this again, I swear. You can trust me.”

Mateo’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “You know, it’s my own fault for believing that in the first place. Turns out you and Caleb are perfect for each other.”

It was a knife through Archer’s heart. He nodded, holding back a fresh wave of tears, tongue thick in his mouth. “Okay. Got it.”

Betty had come in behind him, and the sympathetic look she gave was enough to send Archer fleeing. He turned and crashed directly into Caleb in the doorway. The shock of hitting him was nothing compared to the wave of anger that swamped his senses.

“How could you do that?” The words exploded out of Archer at the same time as his tears. “How could you sell out Mateo like that?”

He realized he was shouting in a silent room. Mateo watched from his locker.

“I only told them things that were true.” Caleb’s reply was quiet, and his eyes stayed on his feet.

“But it was no one’s business!” Archer yelled. “Why would you go out of your way to hurt someone like that?”

Caleb’s head snapped up. “Hurt someone? You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Archer?”

Archer blinked as he processed, the anger fading as rapidly as it had exploded. “Was this… was this whole thing about getting back at me?”

The silence between them stretched on. Caleb looked away.

“Look,” Mateo interjected, voice weary. “We have a show to do. Can we be professionals and just… fucking dance?”

Archer wiped at a tear and nodded. Caleb nodded too, at least having the decency to look a little ashamed. You could hear a pin drop backstage as they got ready. Most of them were mad at Caleb, some seemed to be mad at Archer, and in general, Mateo, Caleb, and Archer were given a wide berth.

Unsurprisingly, it was another terrible show. Archer couldn’t even look at Mateo or Caleb, and he was on the verge of tears half the time. He knew his dancing was substandard—heavy and joyless.

After the second show, he threw his Retro jumpsuit in the approximate direction of his costume rack and hightailed it out of there. He had already showered and buried himself under his blankets by the time Beau and Ben came back.

A few hours later, once he had mentally tortured himself to the point of exhaustion, he fell asleep, wondering how he could possibly do this for another five weeks.

He was still in bed the next afternoon when Beau suggested going for a swim.

“Yes,” Archer said, attempting to muster up some enthusiasm. “That sounds great.” The idea of plunging into the cool depths of murky green water was actually appealing. Anything to shut the world out for a few minutes.

“Not me,” Ben said with a yawn. “I’m going to grab a nap before the show.”

“Okay, love.” Beau gave him a quick kiss. “See you in a bit.”

They found Dominik, River, and Gage down at the dock, too, and Archer was happy to be distracted by their antics in between deep, refreshing dives. He held his breath until his lungs burned, then pulled himself back up toward the sunshine.

The afternoon was winding down when Archer climbed out of the water and his shorts snagged on a wayward nail, leaving a long, ragged tear down the front panel.

“Shit!” he said, examining the damage. He held the fabric together with one hand over the expanse of exposed thigh.

“Oh man, that sucks,” Beau said, but he was distracted by his phone. “Message from Betty in the group chat,” he told Archer.

Archer dried his hands on his towel and retrieved his phone from his bag to check. Meeting at 4:30, everyone! Stewart’s back! Let me know you got this.

Archer sent a quick Got it . Stewart. Hopefully that meant everyone would be better behaved again, although he wasn’t sure there was any coming back from the current disaster. Mateo would probably never forgive him. Archer’s throat squeezed as the guilt that had been washed away by the lake water came flooding back.

“Ben hasn’t replied.” Beau frowned at his phone. “He’s probably still asleep. I’d better go wake him up.”

“It’s fine,” Archer said. “I’m going to head up now anyway to change. I’ll make sure he’s up.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll meet you guys at the theater then.”

Archer wrapped his towel around his torn shorts and made the trek back up to the dorm. He unlocked their door and, as he pushed it open, was met with a mass of moving flesh and blankets. It took him a second to realize what he was looking at. “Oh, shit, sorry…” He started to back out when he realized… that was not Beau and Ben. Beau was down at the dock. And one of the people in the bed had brown skin… It was Caleb. And Ben.

Archer’s heart stopped. The two naked men scrambled to separate and cover themselves with sheets. “What the fuck?”

“Archer! It’s not what it looks like!” Ben’s eyes were wide and frantic.

Archer blinked. “I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“Fuck, please don’t tell Beau!” Ben begged.

Archer shook his head. “Holy shit, Ben. You can’t ask me to keep that secret.” Then he looked back and forth between the two of them as a thought occurred. “How long has this been going on?”

Ben and Caleb shared a look.

“Only a couple days,” Caleb replied. Archer didn’t miss the guilt that flashed across his face.

Ben reached onto the floor for his clothes. “Please, please, please, Archer. You cannot tell Beau!”

“Either you tell him, or I do.”

“Okay, yes.” Ben nodded and yanked a T-shirt on. “I will absolutely tell him tomorrow.”

“No deal. You have to tell him tonight. Now. He’s on his way to the theater. Stewart’s back and we have a meeting in a few minutes.”

“Fuuuuck,” Ben moaned.

Caleb squeezed his hand. “It’ll be okay. Just tell him what you told me.”

“It’s not that simple, Caleb.” Ben dragged his hand through his hair.

“You made it sound pretty simple.”

“Shit,” Ben muttered. “We’d better go.”

It was a quiet march down to the theater, each person lost in their own thoughts. Archer’s mind whirred. He wasn’t sure he believed Caleb about how long it had been going on, and that opened up a whole new can of worms he did not have the mental energy for.

When the three of them hurried into the greenroom, it looked like everyone else was already there, lounging in a rough circle.

Stewart stood, glowing when he saw them. “Brilliant! Now that we’re all here—” he began.

“I’m really sorry,” Ben said, voice brittle, “but I need to talk to Beau.”

“We’re about to start a meeting—” Mateo protested.

Archer interrupted. “He really needs to talk to Beau. Right now.”

Beau stood, his face a mask of confusion. “Is everything okay?”

“Can you come with me for a second?” Ben led Beau out of the room.

Caleb awkwardly slid into the nearest chair, eyes down, hands fiddling with the strap on his bag.

Archer took an empty spot next to Mateo.

Mateo leaned over to murmur, “What’s up?”

Archer opened his mouth when a bloodcurdling shriek reached them from the hallway.

“YOU’RE FUCKING CALEB?”