Flirty Dancing
Chapters (33)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- 1 Nathan Lane Is Watching
- 2 Shady Queens
- 3 The Cabin
- 4 Tango
- 5 Blurry
- 6 Moonlight
- 7 I Like You
- 8 No One Wants to Be the Stormtrooper
- 9 Tea for Three
- 10 Sweet as Pie
- 11 Happy Birthday
- 12 Late
- 13 Cheating
- 14 Things Fall Apart
- 15 Leave Your Shit at the Door
- 16 Rainy Day
- 17 Shifting
- 18 It Teeters and It Totters
- 19 Caught
- 20 Chaos
- 21 So Now What Do We Do?
- 22 All I Ask of You
- 23 Smashed It
- 24 Secret
- 25 Two as One
- 26 The Finale
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Also by Jennifer Moffatt
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
Copyright Notice
The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.
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?”