Read Online Dancing Lessons by R. Cooper - Free Book Online

thought on being left on his own—again. This time he got it, at least. The women had jobs or kids getting out of school to go home to, and no desire to have Mrs. Winters continually turn to them and ask if they needed help, darlings, in a tone that implied they should be secure enough to do this by themselves.
    He honestly had no idea what she’d do if he said, yes, he needed help. He couldn’t imagine himself correcting her if her stitching was less than perfect.
    But since he didn’t need anything, it was simple enough to shake his head and continue cursing the volunteers before him who’d either rushed or not known what they were doing.
    Notebooks in the room alleged to keep track of costume changes and location, which made him think someone had once done this full time and then possibly retired or moved away, and they hadn’t found a replacement.
    Davi had been right. Technically, Chico shouldn’t have much to do but adjust hems, patch tears, and tighten in places. But while he was willing to ignore the unpacked boxes in his apartment, the current disorganized state of the costuming department he could not stand.
    He flipped through the notebooks for The Nutcracker and knew he’d guessed right when he found the original pale blue snowflake design of the tutu on his table. He’d bet some kid had looked adorable in it. However, there weren’t any notes on what it had been turned into, or exactly what it was supposed to be now.
    This was something he ought to ask Mrs. Winters about, but he glanced toward her as she guided her little dancers in some sort of leg-extending, toe-pointing exercise, and shook his head.
    The costuming room consisted of the racks of costumes, an old sofa, two fitting stools, and two tables with sewing machines and space. Each table also had cups filled with scissors and pencils, and a small box filled with assorted loose pins, thimbles, measuring tape, and needles.
    He plucked a pencil from the cup at his table and made the notes someone else had forgotten to make, noting the damaged embroidery, the tear, and the addition of purple tulle. Then, since he was at it, he sketched a different pattern over the bodice, since it was probably supposed to represent a court dress, but a young girl was going to be wearing it. She ought to look regal, not like she was wearing a reused false corset from a sugarplum fairy.
    “So that is it.”
    Rafael had to be doing it on purpose now.
    Chico dropped the pencil and glanced up. Rafael was in the doorway, in his ballroom dancing teacher ensemble. “Do you not make noise?” Chico bitched at him, for the sake of his pride. He fought the need to put a hand over his sketch as Rafael came into the room.
    Rafael pointed to the flat slippers he had on, presumably the reason he could move so quietly.
    “So that is it?” Chico pressed, recalling what Rafael had said when he’d entered the room. “So what is it? What did you mean?” He tensed a bit when Rafael came around to study his sketch and then the costume. When he was done with that, he studied Chico.
    “What you’re good at,” Rafael explained. “What you like to do. You sew. You make things.”
    “Yes. Well. Yeah. Sometimes.” Chico slowly slid his hand away from the notebook. After another pause, he resumed fussing with the terrible stitching. He reached for the scissors. “Thank you for this,” he said, as calmly as his racing heart would allow. “It’s busy work I don’t mind doing.”
    “You’re welcome,” Rafael returned warmly, then took another step so he could fall onto the sofa. He exhaled noisily the moment his ass hit the cushions. For some reason, Chico glanced guiltily out the door toward Mrs. Winters, but she was focused on her students.
    “So… you’re teaching a class?” He kept his attention on pieces of cut thread, only to hide a shiver at the awareness of Rafael’s gaze on his bowed head. Rafael could be watching him intently, and Chico wouldn’t see anything