Page 4 of Flirty Dancing

4

Tango

Archer and Betty warmed up with the rest as eight o’clock passed, then 8:05 and 8:10. He was on the floor stretching and wondering where Stewart was when he saw Mateo look at the clock and sigh.

“Alright,” Mateo said to the group, hands on hips. “Let’s run through the tango duets first, no music. Beau, you’re with Seta. Ben, Caleb. Archer”—their eyes locked—“with me.”

Archer stood and gulped as the rest of the dancers paired off and began to work through their intro sequences.

“Have you danced the Argentine tango before?” Mateo asked, rolling his shoulders.

He had taken a few Latin ballroom classes over the last few months, but he was no expert. “Some.”

“Great. So like that, only now you do it backward.”

“I do?” Archer frowned. “Wait, why do you get to lead?”

Mateo looked taken aback. “I’m taller.”

Archer squinted at the top of Mateo’s head. “I don’t think you are. I think we’re the same height.”

“Well, my shoulders are wider.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Uh…” Mateo’s brow furrowed.

A smile played at the corner of Archer’s mouth. “Alright, teach me the choreo for now, and we can measure width later.”

Mateo huffed and crossed to the center of the floor. “We start in opposite wings and walk to meet in the middle on the second eight-count and then—” Mateo took Archer in his arms in a close hold and fucking smoldered at him.

Archer dropped his eyes while he filled his lungs with Mateo’s scent. The reality of what it would mean to dance in this man’s arms hit him hard. “Got it,” he rasped.

“We start with a walk in promenade. Make sure you hold your frame…” He began to lead. Archer tried to let himself be moved by Mateo’s hands and arms. “Slow, slow, quick, quick…”

He thought he was settling in well when Mateo stopped. “Archer, you’re leading.”

“What?”

“You’re leading.”

Archer blinked. “How can I be leading? I don’t know the steps.”

“And yet… you are.”

Archer exhaled. “Sorry.”

Mateo took hold of him again. “From the top. Slow, slow…”

It wasn’t long before Mateo stopped again. “Relax your shoulders,” he told Archer.

Shit, I suck at this. “I thought I was supposed to be erect in the tango.”

The faintest hint of a smile fluttered over Mateo’s mouth. “Your posture is erect, yes, but your shoulders also need to be relaxed and over your hips.” When he said the word hips , he took Archer’s hips in both hands and pulled them forward so they were under his shoulders. And right up against Mateo’s hips.

Archer stifled a whimper. “Got it.” He knew he was too tense—he could feel the rigidness in his body, like he was trying to maintain a boundary between himself and Mateo. A professional I-didn’t-spend-most-of-my-teenage-years-in-love-with-you wall.

“Then same-foot lunge…” Mateo continued.

Forty-five minutes later, Archer—sweating and trying to be erect, yet not—noticed Stewart shuffling in from backstage, dog under one arm, cane in the other. “Good morning, my darlings!” he announced. “You’ll have to forgive my tardiness this morning. One of us…” He paused and lifted the dog up to press a kiss to its shiny fur. “… was having a bit of a lie-in this morning, weren’t you, Judy? Well, enough faffing about, from the top!” He settled into his usual front-row seat.

“He’s late ’cause of his dog?” Archer murmured under his breath.

Mateo shot him a sardonic look. “He told me that he takes an entire week off every year for Judy’s birthday.”

The opening tango number began with a series of partner duets, Mateo and Archer first. The pairs split up into the left and right wings while Francisco, their tech guy, fiddled with some knobs. Then the music began.

Archer started his walk in time with the music, matching Mateo’s pace, until they met in the middle in their hold. Slow, slow, quick, quick… Archer blew out a breath at the halfway point of their duet. Okay, this is—

“Stop!” Stewart shrieked.

Archer and Mateo dropped out of their hold as the music cut off.

“Stop, stop, STOP!” Stewart stomped up the stairs in his leather sandals, Judy still tucked under one arm. He reached the top and thrust an accusing finger toward Archer. “ You .”

“Me?” Archer squeaked, as if there was any doubt as to whom Stewart was pointing at. Mateo shuffled back a few inches. Oh God, am I getting fired? Do I suck that bad?

Stewart marched toward him, although it was really more of a waddle. “This is the tango, boy. The tango .” He waved pinched fingers at Archer. “It is hot . It is spicy . It is sex on the dance floor . I need to believe you want to devour your partner.”

Archer licked his dry lips and flicked his gaze over to Mateo, who looked only amused.

“Well?” Stewart barked.

“Um.” Archer blinked at him.

“‘Um,’ he says. So help me, Judy, he says ‘um.’ Mateo, get over here. Let me see your hold.”

Archer’s cheeks flushed as Mateo took hold of him, their noses only an inch apart. He stared at Mateo’s chest.

“Now, see, you can’t even look at him. Look into his eyes! See that he wants you!”

Archer was only seconds away from melting into a puddle and seeping through the cracks in the floorboards, never to be seen again. He lifted his chin to find Mateo’s dark stare boring into him.

“Yes! Yes. Feel his desire. Yearn for him. Smell him!”

“Smell—?”

“It’s pheromones, boy! We’ve got to believe he is driving you insane on a chemical level . Breathe him in.”

Archer inhaled. Fuck, he did smell good. Forest and sunshine. Mateo’s nostrils flared too. Archer figured he smelled like sweat.

“Can you feel how he wants you?” Stewart asked, voice a low, urgent simmer.

He could, in fact, feel every inch of Mateo’s body, even though most of it wasn’t actually touching him, but it was only a breath away, radiating heat and muscle and power. Mateo’s gaze dipped to his lips and back up, eyes flashing with desire.

“Yes,” Archer whispered.

Stewart leaned in. “Say it.”

Their eyes were locked. “He wants me.”

Stewart’s voice dropped to a hush. “Then fucking dance like it.” He whirled, his sweater flapping like a cape. “And that goes for all of you! Again!”

“He’s right, you know,” Mateo murmured as Stewart clomped back down the stairs. “The audience has to believe the chemistry. These dances, they have to be sexy.” Mateo was still holding Archer, but now he was looking at him like he was just some dumb kid who couldn’t do his job.

Archer stepped back out of his arms. “Got it,” he snapped, face hot. He turned and marched to his place on stage right. Alright… You want sexy? I’ll give you fucking sexy.

When the music started, Archer began his walk. He attached his gaze to Mateo’s, imagining it was the face on his bedroom wall. He rolled his hips. He dragged his tongue along his lower lip. He didn’t look away. This time when Mateo took him in their hold, Archer tilted his head a smidge, parted his lips, looked at Mateo through lowered lashes. He had imagined this moment many times before. All that was left to do was kiss.

The duet began. Each pause, he pressed his chest to Mateo’s. He pushed his foot hard against Mateo’s leg for each caress. When they stopped in hold, he let out a faint moan. Mateo’s eyes widened when he felt the vibration in his chest.

“How was that?” Archer whispered into Mateo’s ear when they hit their finishing pose. He tried not to grin when Mateo shivered.

“Good,” Mateo rasped. He let go of Archer like he was a hot poker. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Good. That was good. Better. Uh.” He looked around. “Can we take five?” He bolted for his water bottle.

Archer found Stewart watching him.

The bastard winked.

“How was the tango ?” Betty said in a deeply meaningful way, bumping Archer’s hip with hers on their way out the theater door.

He suppressed a grin. “Fine.”

“‘Fine,’” she repeated. “Yeah, if by ‘fine’ you mean ‘the eye-sex was great, thanks.’”

Archer tried to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about for a hot second, then the grin won. “Okay, more than fine.”

Betty cackled. “Holy shit, it was fire . God, how did you manage to do all that without ripping your clothes off and yelling ‘take me now’?”

Archer chuckled and made a show of examining his nails. “I mean… only doing my job.”

She laughed again. “You’re dedicated to your craft, Archie. Just try to leave some sexual chemistry for the rest of us, hmm?”

The blistering water cascaded down Archer’s aching shoulders and back. He wasn’t used to being in a ballroom hold for half the day. In Mateo’s arms though. He grinned at the shower tile. He’d be looking forward to Latin night each week, that was for sure.

When he decided he had been in there long enough, he reached out for his towel, but his hand only met the bare wall. He frowned and stuck his head out from behind the curtain. It took a second to process the empty stall. His clothes and towel were gone from the hook. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked the wall.

Archer groaned and stepped out of the shower, shaking water drops from his hair. “Hello?” he called to the rest of the bathroom. No answer. Of course. Fortunately, the prankster had left his toiletry bag, and he had a washcloth in the shower. He eyed the barely adequate white square. “Fuck.”

He packed up his toiletries and, holding the bag behind him and the washcloth over his junk, tiptoed past the sinks and over to the door. He poked his head out and looked up and down the hallway. No one. With a deep breath, he bolted for his room, rounded the corner, and screeched to a halt when he found Mateo Dixon standing outside his door.

“Uh…” The shock on Mateo’s face would have been fucking hilarious if Archer wasn’t about to incinerate on the spot and blow away in a billion pieces of ash. “Where are your clothes?” he stammered.

“I don’t know,” Archer replied, gripping the washcloth.

Mateo looked confused. “Did someone take them?” Mateo’s eyes began to drift down Archer’s chest and got somewhere around the v of his hips before wrenching back up to Archer’s face.

I’m naked, Archer’s brain screamed. “I guess, since I got out of the shower and they were not there.” He laughed. It bordered on hysterical. “Did you take them?”

“What? No? Why would I take your clothes?”

So, so naked. Archer closed his eyes. “I was joking. Uh, do you mind?”

“Sorry.” Mateo lurched away from the door. “You probably want to…”

“Uh, yup.” Archer shuffled forward, staring at the doorknob. Using the hand with the washcloth was out of the question… but if he used the toiletry bag hand, his naked ass would be facing Mateo. He swallowed a whimper and turned to face him. “Could you…?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” Mateo jumped forward and swung the door open for him. Thank God no one had locked it. The key was in the depths of his toiletry bag.

“Thanks,” Archer murmured as he dashed through the door, not able to slam it behind him because, again… hands. Instead, he fell onto his bed and wiggled the covers around him. His clothes and towel were sitting folded neatly on his pillow. Ben and Beau were curled up together on a bed watching something on a tablet, although they were both now staring at his entrance, wide-eyed.

“Who put my clothes there?” he mumbled into his pillow, too embarrassed to be mad.

“Caleb,” one of the B-Boys replied.

Archer sat up. “You didn’t think it was weird Caleb had my clothes?”

They shrugged and went back to their show. “He said you asked him to drop them off or something,” one of them muttered.

Archer grabbed his clothes and realized Mateo was standing in the doorway still, looking very uncertain—a look Archer had not seen on him before. He pulled his boxer briefs and shorts under the blanket and awkwardly clambered into them before letting go of the blanket and wrestling his T-shirt on.

“Thanks guys,” he snapped at the B-Boys as he stood and smoothed his hair back. “Did you need something?” he asked Mateo with more irritation in his voice than was fair.

“Uh, no,” Mateo said. “No, not really, I was walking by and I was just going to ask—or say—good job today.”

Right at that moment Caleb strolled in. “Hey, Matty,” he said casually to Mateo. “How are things?”

Archer bit his lip, not wanting to lose his shit in front of Mateo.

“Fine, Caleb. I, uh—I’ve got to go. I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning.”

“What the fuck, Caleb?” Archer snapped as soon as Mateo’s form retreated from the room.

Caleb fell back onto his bed. “Oh, just a bit of harmless fun, Archer. Relax. Welcome to the troupe.”

“Fun? Mateo Dixon basically saw me naked!”

Caleb laughed. “No one is going to be mad about seeing you naked, not even Mateo.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. This is my job. I’m here to work.”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to take this quite so seriously, Archer.”

The words piled up in Archer’s mouth. Maybe this wasn’t serious for Caleb or Ben and Beau or anyone. Maybe they were only here for fun. He was here because no one else wanted him, and he had to do it well.

“Just…” Archer ran his hands through his hair. “Leave my stuff alone, okay?”

“Fine.” Caleb sniffed.

Archer spread his comforter out in the icy silence, which was interrupted by his phone buzzing. Lynn was calling him. He ducked into the hall, ignoring Caleb’s sulk on the way.

“Archer! I miss you!” Lynn cried as soon as he answered.

“I miss you too.” He walked down the hall and out the door onto the creaky porch. It was already dark, but the night was warm. Crickets chirped in the greenery.

“How’s it going? Have you kissed Mateo yet?”

Archer laughed ruefully. “No, but he just saw me practically naked.”

“Ooh, do tell!”

“Unfortunately, not like that!” He told her the story.

“Okay, dick move by Caleb,” Lynn weighed in, “but… like, your body is objectively amazing. I bet Mateo enjoyed the experience.”

Archer flushed. “Maybe. So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Hmm, okay, I’ll allow you to change the subject, only because this is important. As you know, Sasha and I have been together for six months now—”

“Mm-hmm…”

“—and I’m thinking about asking her to marry me.”

“What! Lynn, that’s amazing!”

“Is it? You don’t think it’s too soon? We haven’t even lived together yet… although we basically have been since you left.”

Archer considered what he had observed the past five months, and they seemed like a perfect pair, but he didn’t want to influence such an important decision. “Only you can know what feels right.”

“It feels right, it does.”

“Then that’s great.” His heart swelled with happiness for his friend.

“Great!”

“So, how are you going to ask her?”

“I was hoping you would help with that! Something cute and creative. You’re so good at stuff like this.”

“Hmm, let me think about it. Do you have a ring yet?”

“Nope. I have nothing, Archer. That’s why I need you.”

He laughed. “Okay, you look at rings, we’ll both think about the proposal, then we’ll talk again soon.”

“Thanks, boo.”

“You’re welcome.”

They chatted a bit longer about Shady Queens and Lynn’s work, then they hung up. Archer smiled at the forest around him. A breeze tickled his cheeks, and he could maybe hear the distant shriek of someone jumping into the lake. A thought wriggled through his brain—what would Lynn do with her apartment once she and Sasha were engaged?

Speaking of intrusive thoughts, he figured while he was out there he might as well make another call, though it wouldn’t be as fun. “Hi, Mom.”

“Oh, he finally calls us! One sec.” His mom put the call on speaker. “Your dad is here too.”

He sighed. “Hi, Dad. And you can call too, you know.”

“You never answer.”

“Yes, I do.”

“So, how is it at… What’s it called? Shady Pines?”

“Shady Queens.”

“Queens? Why would it be called Shady Queens?”

“It’s an LGBTQ+ resort, Dad.”

“So?”

“Like… drag queens?”

“You’re not a drag queen… are you?”

“No, Dad. They perform on Sundays. A different one comes in each week.”

“Are they paying you well?”

“It’s decent, plus I get room and board.”

“How much are you making, though?”

Their barrage of questions continued until Archer’s defenses were weakened and he told them he had rehearsal and hung up. He leaned against the railing, head drooping. Why did his parents make him feel like such a loser? He slapped at a mosquito and headed back to his room. The others were gone. He looked at his bed.

Five minutes later, he had brushed his teeth and was burrowing under his covers when a text came in from Betty. You coming?

Ummmmm…

You’re already in bed, aren’t you?

Little bit.

Sad.

The saddest.

Caleb says hi.

What? No, he doesn’t.

Fine, he didn’t exactly say hi, but he asked me where you were.

Gross.

He’s hot.

Yeah, but… And psychotic.

Well, one out of two ain’t bad.

You go for it, then!

Maybe.

Archer laughed. Good luck.

It wasn’t until he woke up in the middle of the night and stared at the ceiling for a while listening to Caleb snoring that it occurred to him that Mateo must have asked someone which room was his.