Cora had run into a small issue—they were supposed to be leaving any minute now and she couldn't get her dress zipped up.
Everything had been going to plan up until now. She didn't have her personal stylist (aka Siena) around to help her out tonight (she was off at one of her evening classes, but she promised Cora several times that it wouldn't make her late to the show), but her makeup look had turned out better than she expected it to and her bob of hair was pretty easy to style as long as she was in the mood to channel her inner '50s starlet (she never wasn't). But she hadn't even thought about needing help with her dress since she'd managed it on her own in the fitting room when she bought it. What she hadn't predicted then was that she would strain a muscle in her shoulder during one of their shows last week and was only now realizing that it inhibited her from being as flexible as she'd been when she got the dress on before. Shooting pain radiated through her arm each time she tried to stretch far enough to get to the zipper and she couldn't afford to put herself at risk of further injury by pushing it too hard.
There was a firm knock on the door—her other problem. Rasmus was picking her up.
"Just a minute!" Cora squeaked at him as she ran into the living room, scouring for anything she might be able to use to aid herself. But what was she expecting to find? One of those scary plastic back scratchers with a hand on it?
She heard a tiny thud that she suspected was him leaning his head against the door. "Are you really about to make us late to our own damn opening night?" he complained.
Cora rolled her eyes. He was being dramatic—they had plenty of time. What she didn't have plenty of were options, particularly when taken into account that she was a nice enough person to be considerate of the fact that he might have friends and family waiting for him. Her own parents were out at dinner right now after coming by the apartment earlier in the afternoon, but she didn't have the slightest clue what his arrangements might be.
Perhaps he was being so snappy right now because he had a girl waiting for him.
She crossed the room to the door and opened it as narrowly as she could while still glaring out at him. "I need a favor."
"A favor?" he repeated. "And why the hell are you hiding?"
It pained her to get the words out, but she did, tight-lipped. "I need you to zip me up."
Rasmus was looking at her incredulously, unspeaking. Okay, he was definitely being dramatic. Even she didn't think it was that absurd.
"You take my dress off of me eight times a week," she pointed out flatly. "Surely you're also capable of zipping it up."
His eyes made it clear that he had some very choice words for her, but instead of verbalizing them he silently stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Flushing, Cora realized that he'd never seen the interior of her apartment before, but his eyes didn't wander far from her as she noiselessly turned her back to him.
He was close, uncomfortably close, which shouldn't even have been possible with how intimate they had to be onstage. But after she'd gotten over the initial mortification of it, having him take her dress off during the show didn't feel like such a massive deal because there was always still the corset underneath it, always another layer shielding her. That shield was gone now.
Cora couldn't see him, but she could feel his breaths brush against her skin. His fingers were startlingly cold when they touched her back, sending an involuntary shiver up her spine.
"Are you sure you didn't die on the way over here?" she hissed under her breath. "You feel like a corpse."
In one swift motion, the dress was zipped and Rasmus was placing those cold hands on her shoulders, nearly making her jump.
"Would you prefer that I unzip this and leave you to fend for yourself?" he offered, his voice unpleasantly close to her ear.
"I hate you."
"I thought we were best friends now," he gloated.
"I really hate you."
Cora half expected something else to go awry, that she'd stain her dress before they even got to the theater or she would have food in her teeth in the pictures, but she and Rasmus both came out of the red carpet in one piece.
She couldn't say that he hadn't done his job of being nice to her after the two of them stepped out of her apartment. His elbow was always slightly extended towards her as they walked, free for her to hold onto or loop her arm through if she started feeling too wobbly in her heels. He watched her step to make sure that she wasn't about to faceplant.
Her heart fluttered in her chest when they approached the theater and she saw the red carpet out front, already occupied by some of their creative team and castmates talking to reporters while their pictures were shot by a crowd of eager photographers. The cast and crew got their moment to shine before any of the other miscellaneous stars and celebrities who were invited showed up—not because they were more or less important, but because they needed to be inside getting ready for their show while all those other people were still dawdling outside and chatting with the press.
Cora's palms were sweating and she didn't have pockets to hide them in, but she'd live as long as she didn't have to shake too many hands. Her eyes floated across the crowd, which was possibly a bad idea. She was already feeling intimidated by it all. But she realized that some curious passersby were also congregating on the sidewalk across the street and at the front of the group was none other than her parents, excitedly waving at her.
She giggled and quickly waved back to let them know she'd seen them. While she and Rasmus were waiting for their turn to step out onto the carpet, she leaned over and pointed them out to him.
"When are yours showing up?" she asked casually, figuring that they might as well make conversation while they were standing here.
He barely seemed to be paying attention to her. "Hm?"
"Your parents."
For a fraction of a second, she thought she saw something in his expression go dark. But she must have been imagining it because he was immediately back to his charming self. He did not, however, answer her question, which made concern bubble up in her.
"You...you did invite them, right?" she asked under her breath.
Surely the alternative wasn't an option. Yes, they only got a few tickets each, but he wouldn't be stingy enough to withhold them from his parents, would he?
"Of course I invited them," he said curtly. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Then..."
But she never got her answer. She was being waved forward onto the carpet, so she had no choice but to leave his side and put on her best smile.
When she gave him one last nervous glance over her shoulder, he seemed intent on looking at anything but her.
"Actors, this is your five-minute call," the voice resounded over the backstage intercoms.
Actors, this is your five-minute call."
Five minutes until showtime. Cora was putting her earrings in before she rushed off to her place in the wings, but she forced herself to look at her reflection in the mirror and take one last deep breath while she had the chance.
She was in her gorgeous red gown for the first act, her lips painted a slightly darker shade that contrasted with her skin to make her look like porcelain. Delicate, so that it was that much more of a surprise when she turned out to be anything but. Her hair, styled into the neatest waves she'd ever seen, reminded her of a flapper girl. She still felt flattered that they liked her natural shade so much that they didn't want to put her in a wig, even though the logical part of her brain told her that it was also much more cost-efficient this way.
After one last hug from Anais, she hurried out of the dressing room and down the stairs to meet Rasmus—their first entrance involved them walking on together.
"I almost thought you weren't going to make it," he told her as she joined him at his side, his voice low.
"On opening night?" She decided to mimic him. "Don't be ridiculous."
She couldn't tell if the sound he quietly made was a laugh or a scoff, but she decided to entertain the thought that it was the first. She needed it right now. She could hear the vibrant hum of the audience, all their conversations blurring into a singular sound.
Hoping she wouldn't regret it, she shyly reached over and squeezed his hand for reassurance. He squeezed it back.
"Break a leg, Coraline."
She nodded. "You, too," Cora whispered, then straightened her shoulders and held herself with confidence. This was her chance, her moment.
Tonight, she was going to show the world what she was made of.
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A/N:
As you can see from the title, this chapter is divided into 2 parts, so make sure to keep scrolling ahead to read part 2! <3