Page 3 of Flirty Dancing

3

The Cabin

Archer stood next to Betty with his dinner tray heaped high, surveying the crowd and waiting for Beau and Ben. He couldn’t pick out any of the dancers in the sea of faces and suddenly he was in high school again, wondering where he should sit. He was eyeing a nearby table that had some room when Betty murmured in his ear.

“That’s the housekeeping staff. We don’t eat with them.”

“We… What?” Oh shit, it was high school again.

Betty cackled. “Nah, I’m fucking with you. This isn’t high school. Of course we do.”

Archer sagged with relief and followed her over to the table. “There’s so many people here though,” he said as he sat. “I feel like I’ll barely be able to remember all the dancers.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” Betty said. “Everyone’s been really nice so far… mostly.”

When they came back from dinner to unpack and settle in a bit, Caleb was stretched out on the fourth bed scrolling his phone. He was strikingly beautiful—Black with deep eyes, thick lashes, and full lips that seemed to be permanently curled into a suggestive grin.

“Welcome,” he said, getting up with a grand gesture, as if they were in the guest suite at the Ritz. “I’m Caleb. The most important roommate rule this summer is if you’re hooking up or jerking off or something, sock on the doorknob. If you forget, it’s your fault if someone walks in.” Caleb’s gaze ran up and down Archer’s body. “Archer, was it?”

“Er, yes,” Archer stammered. Caleb’s frank pause at his bulge heated his cheeks.

Caleb’s gaze flicked back up, the grin curling farther. “You single, Archer?”

He shifted. “Why?”

“Just wondering how often you might need a sock on the doorknob.”

“I’m single but… not really here to hook up?”

Caleb smirked. “Heard that before.”

To his relief, Archer’s phone buzzed in his pocket, which reminded him he hadn’t checked in with his parents when he arrived. “Excuse me, I need to…” He waved his phone in the air, then eased back into the hallway, sure Caleb’s eyes were on his ass.

He was expecting a message from his mom but instead it was Lynn. Hey! Did you arrive okay???

He leaned against the wall, happy to hear from her. Yes! Sorry, bit of a whirlwind. Listen, MATEO DIXON IS HERE. IN THE SHOW. (Do not ask who that is, just Google.)

While he was waiting for Lynn’s reply, he fired off a quick message to his mom. Arrived okay. Busy day. Will call you tomorrow.

Then Lynn replied. HOLY SHIT, ARCHER. HE’S HOT. WHAT IS HE DOING THERE?

I don’t know… dancing, I guess?? But I was IN LOVE with him as a teenager. It’s very weird.

You were??? THIS IS AMAZING. Is he nice?

So far, I think he hates me.

No way. How could anyone hate you?

Lol, I’ll ask him. How are you?

Good! But I need to talk to you about something when you have time. Maybe tomorrow? We’re heading out now.

Everything okay? Did you kill my plants already? Tell me Spot is alright.

Lol, no! Everything’s great, including Spot. Just need your advice about something.

Okay. Have fun. I miss you.

Miss you too. Kick some ass, okay?

Xoxo

He slid his phone back into his pocket and went back into the room.

Caleb was stretched out on his bed again watching Beau and Ben unpack. “How long have you two been together?” he asked them.

“Three years,” they said at the same time, then smiled at each other.

Caleb whistled. “Three years, shit. No little breakups in there at all? Three years solid?”

Both men stiffened. One of them (Ben?) offered a forced smile. “There was a brief, er, pause a year or so ago, but”—he pressed his lips together—“only a pause.”

“We don’t count it as a breakup,” the other said firmly. He stopped what he was doing and went to kiss his boyfriend on the shoulder before resuming his unpacking.

“Hmm.” Caleb’s eyes twinkled as he gave Archer a knowing look. Archer tried to keep his face noncommittal. “Yeah, sounds like it doesn’t count.”

They continued to settle in while Caleb gossiped about the rest of the dancers. “River is nonbinary and is definitely trying to get with Gage, who is bi. I already tried to fuck Gage last summer, but he wasn’t interested. Seems like he’s into River, anyway. Speaking of fucking—”

“How many summers have you been here?” Archer interrupted, not at all interested in who Gage was or was not fucking.

“This is my fourth. Gage, Grace, Seta, and a couple of the others are on their second. Dominik and Harley have done three. They work here for the summer semester then go back to college.”

Does anyone dance on Broadway? Archer wanted to ask, but it felt like an idiotic question.

Mercifully, Betty rapped on their doorframe before the hookup report could continue. “Hey guys, you ready to go?”

Caleb swung his feet to the ground and stood. “Hell yeah. I’ll meet you there, though. Gotta go see a guy about a thing.” He winked and strolled out. Archer had an imme diate sense of relief without Caleb’s presence in the room. The man was intense.

“Go where?” Archer asked, eyeing his bed. It had been an awfully long day.

Betty laughed. “You’re not actually thinking about going to bed right now, are you?”

“No?”

“Archer! Holy shit! The entire point of coming to work at Shady Queens for the summer is the partying! You two are up for it, right?” she asked Ben and Beau.

They looked at each other. “Sure,” they said together.

“Archie, darling, it’s time to get our drink on.”

Betty led them down a path that curled around the west side of the lake. The setting sun had turned the trees around the lake black, while the sky was soft and purple. Music and shrieking laughter reached them before the light flickering through the maples. “Is this not a guest cabin down here?” he asked, dodging under some low-hanging leaves.

“Nope. It’s sort of the employee lounge, and a few of the more senior staff have private rooms upstairs. Everyone calls it ‘the cabin.’ I think Mateo stays here,” Betty replied.

One more curve of the path, then a large, faded cabin was visible, hunkered down only a few feet back from the shore. A weathered dock jutted into the lake, where a handful of silhouetted bodies hurled themselves into the darkening water, hooting and hollering, spurred on by cheers from the rest. The porch of the cabin seethed with bodies, flashes of color and skin.

Ben and Beau went to check out the dock while Betty took Archer by the hand and pulled him up the steps to the house, smiling and nodding as she went. Inside was one big, low-ceilinged room with a kitchen in the corner and the rest of it old, beaten-up couches and tables, plus a foosball table in another corner. There was a hall in the back where Archer could make out a set of stairs.

“Well, stop standing there like you carried a watermelon. Grab a beer,” Betty said, nodding at the fridge.

“I didn’t bring anything with me.”

“It’s fine, there’s a beer fund you can contribute to. Go ahead.”

Archer took one of the cheapest cans by habit, added a twenty to the jar on top of the fridge, and popped the top, taking a nervous sip as he looked around.

He recognized a few of the other dancers and some of the housekeeping staff from dinner. He definitely wasn’t looking specifically for Mateo, but he got a thrill when he saw him lounging on a couch by the back hall, and, damn, did he look sexy. His hair was wet and falling onto his forehead in pieces. His pale blue patterned button-down was only half done up and was paired with tight faded jeans. He held a bottle of something Archer didn’t recognize in one hand and the other was stabbing the air as he made a point to the person he was talking to.

“I know, right? I can’t believe he’s here,” Betty whispered in his ear.

“Who? What?” Archer said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Please. You haven’t stopped staring at him since you arrived.”

A protest formed on his lips but it seemed pointless. “So what’s he doing here?”

“I don’t really know. Have you heard the full story about him, though?”

Archer shook his head. Betty grabbed a drink for herself and pulled him back outside. “Come on.” They went and leaned on the railing, watching the splashing and pushing and cannonballing off the dock.

“Okay, so, you know how after Grease he got the lead in Robin’s Egg , right?”

That musical had taken Broadway by storm six years ago. The main character was a trans woman and Mateo had played the Latino love interest. “Of course, yeah.”

“They say the fame went to his head, he started strutting around like he was king of Broadway, drinking and partying too much, treating the rest of the cast like shit, apparently said some really awful things to his costar, and he got fired and then he… disappeared.”

“Wow.” All Archer had heard was the statement Mateo had released at the time that he was stepping down from the role for personal health reasons, which admittedly was usually code for drug or alcohol problems. His brain spun as he filed away the new information, heart hurting a little at the idea that his teenage crush was maybe not a very good person. “How long has he been here?”

“No idea. It was a surprise for me yesterday, too.”

Archer took a thoughtful sip of beer and stared out at the lake. There was no moon, and the night was dark, save for the glimmer of the resort’s lights on the water. Someone turned on a lantern on the dock. “I kind of had a massive crush on him when I was a teenager.”

“For real?”

“Yeah, I had a picture of him on my wall and everything.” Archer chuckled at the memory. “I even used to practice writing my name Archer Dixon and imagined going to prom with him.”

Betty laughed and took a drink. “Well, good luck talking to him. Aside from choreo, he hasn’t said two words to me. Seems kind of… grumpy.”

At least it’s not just me. “How did you end up at Shady Queens?” Archer asked. “A fun summer job for you, too?”

“Sort of? I just graduated from NYU with a BFA. My uncle knows Stewart a little and he thought this would be a good experience for me before I dive into the audition circuit.”

Archer was relieved that someone else was here for more than just a good time. “Maybe I’ll see you out there pounding the pavement.”

“That would be fun.” They clinked bottles, then sipped in silence, lost in their own thoughts, until their drinks were empty. “I’ll get you another one,” Archer said and headed back inside with their empties.

He dug into the fridge for two more beers, then turned and almost ran straight into a huge solid mass of… Mateo Dixon. Archer swallowed as their eyes met. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Mateo pushed his hair back off his forehead, biceps flexing.

They stared at each other, Archer worrying that he’d eventually have a heart attack this summer if his heart started pounding this hard every time Mateo spoke to him.

The silence stretched on. Mateo’s lips were so full… Why was he still staring?

“Are you going to move?” Mateo said, pointing at the fridge.

“Right.” Archer scooted out of the way, cheeks flaming. Idiot. “Sorry.”

Mateo reached in and took out a bottle of an expensive-looking craft beer.

Archer desperately searched for something to say, but, coming up empty, reached over to tap their drinks together. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Mateo mumbled in reply, looking annoyed. He popped the cap off and took a slow drink, throat rippling. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he regarded Archer with heavy brows. “Look, I’m here to work, alright? I don’t really… socialize.”

“Why are you at the party, then?” The question burst out of Archer’s mouth before he could think about it. Shut up, Archer. He smiled, trying to soften it.

“My room is upstairs,” Mateo replied shortly, jerking his chin up at the ceiling. “Not much point in sitting up there trying to read or sleep with music blaring down here.”

“Yeah, okay. Makes sense.” Archer bobbed his head. God, as if he cares what you think. “And,” he continued too quickly, “you don’t need much sleep anyway.” Oh, Christ. Shut up , Archer.

“I—what?” Mateo’s eyebrows pinched together.

“Uh.” Archer scratched out a laugh, tugging at his shirt. “I remember reading that about you once. In an interview or something.”

Mateo’s brow softened. “Oh.”

“Like I said, I’m a fan.” He shrugged and took a sip of his beer, cheeks flaming.

Mateo studied him for a second, then clenched his jaw. He huffed a humorless snort. “You’re going to have to get over that pretty quick.” He turned to leave, then tossed over his shoulder, “We have a lot of work to do.”

Archer blew out a breath. Way to go, Archer. Mateo Dixon hates you.

The night got blurry after that—two beers became four, then beer pong broke out, then shots. Archer was introduced to every person at least twice by an increasingly gregarious Betty, even when she didn’t know their names, and Beau and Ben ended up shirtless and doing a rather explicit rumba in the middle of the cabin, much to the delight of the crowd. Archer didn’t see Mateo again after their brief conversation.

When Archer’s alarm went off at seven the next morning, he cracked open an eye with great difficulty. He spent most of his life running a few minutes late for everything, and getting up early was not his thing, but he’d be damned if he was going to be late to his very first day of rehearsal.

Caleb was already gone, and it was a relief not to have to face him a little hungover first thing in the morning. A few sips of Gatorade helped settle Archer’s stomach, then it took him a good couple minutes to shake Ben and Beau awake and out of bed. He pulled on shorts and a tank top and grabbed his duffel. They stopped by the dining hall for eggs and sausage, then made their way to the theater with a few minutes to spare.

The troupe was milling around, downing coffee and Gatorade in equal measure. There was no sign of Stewart Harpham-Lale yet. Archer studied the wheeled whiteboard that was up against the wall stage right that showed the weekly performance schedule and daily rehearsal plan. There would be two shows every night in the theater, at six and nine o’clock. There was Club Retro , Latin Flame , a hip-hop night called Urban Beat , Around the World , Broadway Boulevard , and a contemporary show called From the Heart . Every Sunday was a drag show, and the dancers had the night off.

They would be working on Latin Flame today, according to the sense he could make of the scrawled writing. There was the Argentine tango, paso doble, samba, and cha-cha, and his partner was… Mateo?

“Uh…” He turned to Betty when she appeared at his elbow. “This can’t be right?”

“It sure is,” she said when she saw where he was pointing. “Every show has some same-sex couples.”

“But I—” His heart hammered its protest against his rib cage. He was going to be dancing with Mateo Dixon? Like, with him? In his arms?

Betty smirked. “Wow. You must be feeling a lot of feelings right now.”

He glared at her. “I’ve just… never danced ballroom with a man before. I mean, who even leads?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“That’s all.”

“Your face is sure bright red about it.”

Archer’s jaw flapped.

Betty patted his cheek. “You’re adorable, Archie. This is going to be really fun for me.”