Page 87 of Flirty Dancing

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.Youslipped up,hewas 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.

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