At least it’s not just me. “How did you end up at Shady Queens?” Archer asked. “A fun summer job for you, too?”

“Sort of? I just graduated from NYU with a BFA. My uncle knows Stewart a little and he thought this would be a good experience for me before I dive into the audition circuit.”

Archer was relieved that someone else was here for more than just a good time. “Maybe I’ll see you out there pounding the pavement.”

“That would be fun.” They clinked bottles, then sipped in silence, lost in their own thoughts, until their drinks were empty. “I’ll get you another one,” Archer said and headed back inside with their empties.

He dug into the fridge for two more beers, then turned and almost ran straight into a huge solid mass of … Mateo Dixon. Archer swallowed as their eyes met. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Mateo pushed his hair back off his forehead, biceps flexing.

They stared at each other, Archer worrying that he’d eventually have a heart attack this summer if his heart started pounding this hard every time Mateo spoke to him.

The silence stretched on. Mateo’s lips were so full … Why was he still staring?

“Are you going to move?” Mateo said, pointing at the fridge.

“Right.” Archer scooted out of the way, cheeks flaming. Idiot. “Sorry.”

Mateo reached in and took out a bottle of an expensive-looking craft beer.

Archer desperately searched for something to say, but, coming up empty, reached over to tap their drinks together. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Mateo mumbled in reply, looking annoyed. He popped the cap off and took a slow drink, throat rippling. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he regarded Archer with heavy brows. “Look, I’m here to work, alright? I don’t really … socialize.”

“Why are you at the party, then?” The question burst out of Archer’s mouth before he could think about it. Shut up, Archer. He smiled, trying to soften it.

“My room is upstairs,” Mateo replied shortly, jerking his chin up at the ceiling. “Not much point in sitting up there trying to read or sleep with music blaring down here.”

“Yeah, okay. Makes sense.” Archer bobbed his head. God, as if he cares what you think. “And,” he continued too quickly, “you don’t need much sleep anyway.” Oh, Christ. Shut up, Archer.

“I—what?” Mateo’s eyebrows pinched together.

“Uh.” Archer scratched out a laugh, tugging at his shirt. “I remember reading that about you once. In an interview or something.”

Mateo’s brow softened. “Oh.”

“Like I said, I’m a fan.” He shrugged and took a sip of his beer, cheeks flaming.

Mateo studied him for a second, then clenched his jaw. He huffed a humorless snort. “You’re going to have to get over that pretty quick.” He turned to leave, then tossed over his shoulder, “We have a lot of work to do.”