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Flirty Dancing

Jennifer Moffatt
Chapters (33)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. 1 Nathan Lane Is Watching
  4. 2 Shady Queens
  5. 3 The Cabin
  6. 4 Tango
  7. 5 Blurry
  8. 6 Moonlight
  9. 7 I Like You
  10. 8 No One Wants to Be the Stormtrooper
  11. 9 Tea for Three
  12. 10 Sweet as Pie
  13. 11 Happy Birthday
  14. 12 Late
  15. 13 Cheating
  16. 14 Things Fall Apart
  17. 15 Leave Your Shit at the Door
  18. 16 Rainy Day
  19. 17 Shifting
  20. 18 It Teeters and It Totters
  21. 19 Caught
  22. 20 Chaos
  23. 21 So Now What Do We Do?
  24. 22 All I Ask of You
  25. 23 Smashed It
  26. 24 Secret
  27. 25 Two as One
  28. 26 The Finale
  29. Epilogue
  30. Acknowledgments
  31. Also by Jennifer Moffatt
  32. About the Author
  33. Newsletter Sign-up
Cover: Flirty Dancing  by Jennifer Moffatt

Copyright Notice

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Dedication

To Hanna, who loved this book before anyone else did, and has believed in me with her whole heart since the day I met her

1 Nathan Lane Is Watching

“Twenty-seven is too old.”

Not the most devastating words ever spoken, perhaps, but close.

They echoed through Archer’s head again as the subway car rattled around him. Twenty-seven is too old. Objectively speaking, it was not old. It was just a beginning, really. Too old to start a family? Of course not. Too old to go to college? No way. Too old to write a novel? Don’t be ridiculous, have at it. Too old to quit your job as an accountant and move to New York City with dreams of making it as a Broadway dancer? Well, that answer had to be no too, or else … fuck.

Archer’s phone lit up with a text from his mom. Why aren’t you returning my calls? Did you get the part?

No was all Archer could bring himself to type.

Oh, hon. I’m sorry. I hate to say I told
you so, but …

Twenty-seven is too old.

That still counts as ‘I told you so,’ Mom, just so you know.

You’re a brilliant dancer and you
gave it a good try, but maybe it’s
time to come back home. You belong
here, Archer.

Archer slumped into his seat, eyes shutting over the sting of tears. Five months, thirty-six auditions, twelve callbacks … and exactly zero roles. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t quit. His very soul would shrivel up and die if he had to move back to Ohio. Maybe he didn’t belong in New York, but he sure as hell didn’t belong there.

I have two more auditions this week, and a callback, he informed his mom. The callback was for the most ridiculous gig ever, but she didn’t need to know that. If I don’t get those, then we’ll see.

Okay, hon. Have a good night.

The train shuddered to a stop and Archer joined the flow of people up the stairs out into Hell’s Kitchen, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The evening air had cooled but was still thick with the promise of the stifling summer heat that was not far off.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Lynn called from the bathroom when Archer shut the apartment door behind him. “Watch out, Leak Perry is back.”

Archer dodged the half-full bucket of water sitting in the middle of the faded linoleum floor. “And I’m sure Fletcher is on his way to fix it right now?”