Page 14 of Flirty Dancing

“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 thetango?” 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 wasfire. 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 toLatinnight 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 thevof 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—alook 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.

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