Mateo’s face was blank, unreadable. They held eyes for a moment as Archer’s laugh faded. Something flicked over Mateo’s face, then he turned away. Archer watched his back disappear down the hallway toward the stairs.

“Okay, my turn,” Caleb said, nudging Archer aside with a hip, words slightly slurred. “I’ve got this.”

Archer shook himself and clapped Caleb on the shoulder. “Here we go. We need this shot.”

The night got louder and fuzzier after that. They did some shots with Betty and Dominik, then ended up back on the couch, Caleb edging closer and straightening the collar on Archer’s shirt. They might have danced for a while, bodies liquid, sweat beading on Archer’s hairline, Caleb’s hands on his waist, then back to the couch again.

“Archer!” It was Betty, he was able to determine, once the blond head floating over him came into focus. “Dude, it’s three A.M. You good?”

“So good.” Archer knew he was hammered, and his wide, blurry smile was fooling no one. Caleb’s hand was on his thigh. He blinked at Betty. “What’re you still doing here?”

“Get to bed, you guys.” She patted his shoulder. “Rehearsal is in five hours. And please, for the love of God, drink so much water.” She fluttered her fingers at them, shaking her head, then she was gone. Archer realized it was much quieter now, not many people left. One couple was slow dancing—if he squinted, it looked like Gage and River—and someone was passed out on the couch across from them.

“Fuck, man,” Archer mumbled. “We should go.” He stood and hauled Caleb to his feet. Caleb leaned on him, laughing as he sagged, and they managed to stumble outside and down the stairs to begin making their way up the dark, uneven path.

There was a bleary moment when Caleb paused, took Archer’s hand, and tilted his lips toward his, but Archer swayed and stumbled on.

That was the last thing he remembered.

“Archer! What the fuck? Wake up!” Ben’s voice called to him from far away. No, wait, that was Beau. “Archer!” A pissed-off Beau. “Get up, man! Rehearsal starts in five!”

“Wha?” Archer pried his eyes open. The light in the room clawed at his eyeballs. “Fuck.” He closed them again.

“Seriously, get your ass out of bed.”

A rueful chuckle from Ben. “We tried. See you there, Archer!” The door closed, a sound that bounced off the inside of his head in a clatter.

“I’m coming,” Archer mumbled, sitting up and trying to hold his throbbing brain in place. He swung one leg out of bed, then another. His stomach roiled. “Oh God,” he muttered. “What did I do?”

The night came back to him all at once. The drinking. The laughing. The flirting. Caleb. His head jerked over to Caleb’s bed, a move he instantly regretted. His bed was empty.