“No.” Beau shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’m a grown-up. And Ben and I dance so well together.” Another weak smile. “I hope that doesn’t change, at least.”

Archer gave him another hug. Sometimes hearts get in the way.

There was a hum of excitement in the air when they gathered on the stage on Sunday.

“What pieces do we want to include in our finale?” Mateo asked, uncapping a whiteboard marker. “Let’s make sure we showcase everyone’s strengths.”

“Your pas de deux, of course,” Betty piped up. “Write that down.”

Mateo nodded, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Okay.”

“All the tango duets!” Dominik called.

“Bollywood!”

“The hustle.”

“Ben and Beau’s paso.”

“Grease!”

Mateo scribbled down the rapid-fire suggestions. Archer grinned, watching the excitement on his face. Stewart sat in his customary seat in the front row, sipping his tea and nodding wisely.

“Now what about acro, Archer?” Mateo asked when they had a list of more than enough numbers for the big show. “Where do we start?”

“Me?”

Mateo’s eyes crinkled. “It was your idea, and you have more experience than most of us.”

“Alright, well … We should probably start by figuring out who are the bases and who are the tops—Dominik, stop!” Archer cut off Dominik, whose mouth was already open for a tops joke.

Caleb snickered.

“Fine,” Dominik muttered. “It was a good one, though.”

Once they were paired off—Archer was with Betty—he reviewed toe pitches, where the base took the top’s foot in their hands and boosted them up into the air, then braced them as they landed. It wasn’t long until everyone had the hang of it, and they progressed into handstands and other more advanced skills.

He left the theater a few hours later feeling better than he had in weeks, but got a mild pang when he saw he had a text from Lynn. Time for a call? He realized he hadn’t talked to her since right after he and Caleb broke up. She answered after only one ring.

“Archer! Hi, boo! How are you? How are things?”

“I miss you, Lynnie! And, well…” Archer flipped through the events of the last week and a half in his head. “How much time do you have?”

“I’m on the couch with a full glass of wine and have nowhere to be. Talk.”

So he found a bench down by the water and told her the whole story—the ugly and public breakup with Caleb, The Broadway Broad, and the subsequent disaster show—bleeding, fainting, black eyes and all.

“Oh my God, Archer. That’s insane! I’m sorry about Caleb and the whole mess. Are things better now?”

Mateo’s relaxed and open face came to mind. “They’re good,” Archer said. “Really, really good.”

“And … Mateo?”

Archer smiled like an idiot into the phone. “Well … we’re definitely friends.”

“Just friends?”