"What is this, Thomas?" Jimmy's arm jutted out from the crack in his bedroom door.
"It's a flower, Jimmy," Thomas said. Jimmy held a white rose between two fingers, as if he could not stand to touch it.
" m' not wearin' it."
"Everybody will be wearin' them to the weddin', Jimmy. Tell me you're at least partway ready."
Jimmy's hand disappeared again, and the door shut.
"Jimmy?" Thomas pulled his watch from his pocket. He and Jimmy were the last ones left in the servants' quarters. Thomas was glad of it, because it gave them a moment to themselves, but he did not think their precious time would be wasted with Jimmy complaining about a rose. Mr. Carson wouldn't take kindly to them, his two troublemakers, arriving late to his wedding.
"Hmm?" came from Jimmy's room.
"Tell me you're dressed."
"Well…"
"What are you wearin'?"
"Nothin'."
Thomas felt the word run down his chest and lodge between his legs. He didn't think Jimmy could be flirting at the moment, though. He cleared his throat. "The wedding's in 35 minutes, Jimmy. You're gonna make me late."
"Fine, I'll wear it, but I won't like it!"
"What's your problem with a rose, Jimmy?" Thomas asked, rising up on his toes impatiently. The small bouquet of wildflowers in his left hand gave off the scent of fresh grass. None of them were very fragrant or impressive, but they were pretty. He had thought Jimmy would like them, but now he considered running back to his own room to get rid of any evidence that he had wanted to give Jimmy such a gift.
"It's just… so girly! Blech!" he said. The sound of a crash came from inside his room. "I'm fine! That was the chair." Jimmy opened his door, and this time his head emerged. "I'll just be a minute now. What… what's that?" He was looking at the flowers in Thomas's hands.
"Mmm, nothin'," Thomas said, hiding them behind his back.
"Don't tell me that's Mrs. Hughes's bouquet." Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Pretty pitiful if you ask me."
Thomas pressed his lips into a firm line. Jimmy could be thoughtless. Maybe he deserved a gift he'd hate. "They're for you, actually." He held them out. "Wildflowers."
Jimmy straightened, leaning away from the flowers, as though they would bite him. He had on his shirt and trousers, with the suspenders still hanging in loose loops over his hips. His hair was perfect.
"They're for me?" he asked.
"Yes," Thomas said. "I picked them for you before I heard how much you hated roses."
Jimmy stared sidelong at the bouquet and held out a hand tentatively. His fingers closed above Thomas's. He brought the flowers to his nose. "They don't smell like much."
"No, but they're pretty," Thomas said. "But if you don't want 'em, that's fine, too. I won't be offended."
"Boys don't like flowers," Jimmy said matter-of-factly, but he held onto his tightly. He shrugged. "Thanks, I guess."
"You're welcome," Thomas said. He didn't move, thinking maybe Jimmy might lean in for a kiss. He didn't.
"Lemme just finished getting dressed," Jimmy said and disappeared into his room again.
In another few minutes, Jimmy opened the door dressed in his best. He held the white rose out to Thomas. "Help me pin it on?"
"Of course." Thomas leaned forward and attached the rose to Jimmy's lapel. He pulled his watch out again. "We've gotta get a move on, or we'll be late."
Jimmy nodded, took Thomas's hand, and pulled him down the hall. Jimmy had left his door open, and Thomas caught a fleeting glimpse of wildflowers set in a vase on the windowsill.