Archer scanned the shoreline. They had drifted even farther away from the resort, the white buildings barely visible in the distance. “Oh my God, we’re going to be late for the show.”

Caleb grimaced. “We can make it. Let’s go.”

Archer grabbed an oar and rowed as hard as he could. By the time they were halfway, his muscles ached and his brow dripped with sweat. It looked like they were closer to the theater than they were to the marina, which were on opposite ends of the beach.

“Forget the marina,” Archer panted. “It’ll be faster if we row straight to the theater.”

They rammed the boat onto the little strip of sand, bemused patrons watching them from the deck, colorful summer cocktails in hand, as they scrambled out of the boat and around the back of the building.

It was 5:56 when they went tearing in the back door. Dominik started laughing when he saw them go flying by to the greenroom.

Mateo was pacing by Archer’s costume rack, phone pressed to his ear. His face went from concern to anger when he saw them. “Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been calling you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Archer gasped, wrenching his sweaty clothes off and pulling on his hip-hop costume—fortunately the track pants and hoodie were forgiving of the rough treatment. “My phone was in the bottom of my bag, I guess. We’ve been rowing…”

“Rowing?”

“We took a boat out and fell asleep.”

“You—”

“Relax, Dad,” Caleb interjected, patting Mateo’s cheek. “We’re here.”

Mateo pushed Caleb’s hand away and opened his mouth to reply when Francisco’s voice boomed from the front-of-house speakers. Mateo’s eyes were laser beams. “Places,” he hissed.

They ran from the greenroom right onto the stage, Archer’s heart pounding before he even began dancing.

It was not his best show. He knew it. But he made it through, hit all his cues, remembered all the steps, and he doubted the audience could even tell he was dragging a little.

Mateo noticed, of course. He glared at them after the first show. “Grab some food, catch your breath, and get your shit together by nine.”

“Hey…” Caleb hooked his fingers around Archer’s hip, pointedly ignoring Mateo. He pulled Archer closer and kissed him. “I thought you were hot out there. But save some sexy for me, yeah? I want some more of what I got last night … and this morning … and on the boat.”

Archer flushed while Mateo glowered.

“Glad to see you’re feeling bad about almost missing the fucking show,” Mateo snapped.

“We’re really sorry, Mateo—” Archer started.

“Look,” Caleb interrupted. “If we had missed it, sure, be pissed. But we didn’t. So calm the fuck down.”