Thanks for giving this a read! -Nico
Before they even entered the dining area, the music highlighted the difference between third and first class. The music in first class was an underscore; something to be ignored-something that went unappreciated.
The music here sounded like a carnival ride, moving quickly and in unexpected directions-all at once too loud and too wonderful.
Rose had never heard anything like it before.
All her life, the soundtrack had been that non-descript, non-invasive music of first class. The constant, lovely drone of all the instruments involved doing exactly what was expected of them at a volume that neither distracted nor attracted.
This new soundtrack was rather extraordinary.
Just before his hand touched the door that led to the third class dining area, Rose's nerves bubbled in her chest. "Thomas!" She said a bit urgently. "Is it…is it safe?" She despised herself for being nervous. But the sounds of inebriated laughter and the steady stomp of dancing feet intimidated her.
Thomas turned to her, suddenly aware that he was leading her very far away from her element. He smiled and took one of her hands into both of his. "I personally guarantee it," he said, his voice dancing over his words as it always did.
Rose felt her heart soften, rather unexpectedly. She smiled and nodded, feeling assuredly safe. Thomas smiled back, his amber eyes twinkling as he pushed open the doors.
The music was the first assault on the senses, followed by the sound of raucous laughter. Then came the sticky sweet smell of beer and the remnants of the evening meal. As they walked in, she was aware of eyes on them yet they were all smiling. An inebriated older man half danced, half walked across their path, handing Thomas a large pint of dark ale, which he accepted and took a gulp of, laughing as he did so.
"On every ship I have had the pleasure of designing, I have placed a modest platform for dancing in third class," Thomas said, his mouth very near her ear in order to be heard over the din of the dining room. "I've known for some time of the parties that go on below deck." He winked and straightened, jutting a strong chin in the direction of said platform.
"Are you a dancer, Mr. Andrews?" Rose asked, her voice slightly teasing.
"Not professionally," he replied, laughing. "Though every good Irish lad ought to know a few steps." He extended his hand to her.
"You don't mea n to suggest…" Rose laughed, feeling all at one thrilled and nervous.
"Why not?"
"Well, for one I haven't danced in ages," she replied, still smiling. "And…well…" She struggled for a moment before giving up and shrugging. "You know, I cannot think of a single other reason."
Thomas smiled as she placed her soft hand into his own, calloused by years of hard work. They approached the platform and Rose gasped as Thomas suddenly lifted her upon it without warning. Her eyes went wide as he hopped up in a fluid motion, his thick, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes. He straightened out to his full, impressive height in front of her. He was close enough that she could hear his heart beating over the steady rhythm of feet dancing around them.
Her breath involuntarily caught in her throat as he took a step impossibly closer, his arm wrapping tightly around her waist as he bent his mouth to her ear once more. "We're going to have to get a little closer," he said.
He pulled her to him, one arm wrapped around her, the other holding her hand. She looked up at him with uncertainty and he smiled, wordlessly pulling her into a frenzied dance around the generous dance floor. Rose followed his movements in a hurried yet graceful pattern that left her all at once laughing and breathless. The room was a swirl of colorful fabric and laughing faces. Thomas was laughing just as hard above her, doing his best to keep up with the modern movement, his feet faltering only once or twice in the process. As the song came to a close, he dipped her slightly, his head inches above hers as they both laughed breathlessly.
"Rose," he said, his voice clear and strong and suddenly serious. "You are absolutely beautiful."
Rose stopped laughing, the sincerity in his voice catching her off guard.
"Thomas," she said, all other words failing her. He straightened her up and gently moved a strand of crimson hair from her eyes and suddenly looking quite sad.
"May I show you my favorite part of the ship?" He asked. Rose nodded.
"I would like that," she replied, still buzzing with the tension between them.
They walked quietly through the narrow passageways and hidden corridors of Titanic. Thomas, of course, knew these narrow hallways like the back of his hand-winding and looping easily through the labyrinth.
Their hands were clasped, though neither could remember who reached for the other first. Twice, Rose felt Thomas's thumb brush across the backs of her knuckles just slightly before remembering himself and then going still. Both times had sent a shiver up her arm.
Finally, they reached the top deck, the cool sea air momentarily taking both of their breaths away. He brought her to the front of the ship and stood before a small ladder that led to a higher platform Rose couldn't quite see.
Thomas looked from the ladder back to Rose. "'Tis slightly more of an adventure than I remembered it to be," he said. "Are you up to it?"
Rose eyed the ladder and thought briefly of her delicate heels and silk stockings. Then, defiantly, her chin jutting out just a bit she decided she was. "I think I can manage," she said, grasping a hold of the ladder and beginning to climb.
Using her muscles in such a way felt strangely freeing. She was surprised at how easy it was-and how exhilarating the slightly dizzying height was.
She reached the landing with Thomas following moments later. A small sort of booth was on the far side of the platform-a tiny room with bench and a large window. "This is an observation shelter," Thomas explained. In inclement weather, we can still have someone here with their eyes to the sea." Rose nodded, opening the door to the room. The deafening noise of the ocean and wind immediately halted as Thomas followed her, closing the door behind him.
There was room enough for two-presumably designed so the watchmen could work in pairs. They were both, however, keenly aware of the other's presence.
Rose lifted her eyes in the darkness to look at his dimly lit face. "It's quiet," she remarked. Thomas nodded.
"A design flaw," he admitted. "It is helpful to be able to hear one's surrounding when on the lookout for danger. I mean to adjust that when we dock."
"Along with several hundred other perceived imperfections, no doubt," Rose teased. "I've seen how you are buried in that notebook of yours."
Thomas's hand instinctively went to his coat pocket, feeling the familiar weight of the battered notebook. He smiled. "A mere hundred at the most," he teased back. Rose laughed.
"It really is an incredible accomplishment, Thomas," she said. "You should be proud."
"Aye," he agreed. "I suppose so. Yet the builder in me always sees room for improvement."
"Room for improvement," Rose repeated, turning her eyes to the horizon and suddenly looking thoughtful. "I feel as though that phrase is the perfect description of my life."
Thomas felt the mood turn decidedly somber. For several moments the two stood in silence, both gazing out at the inky black ocean.
Thomas took a thin breath. "Nothing is written in stone," he said quietly.
"Thomas…" Rose said, her voice a bit of a warning.
"You can alter the course. There's still time," he continued, his voice a bit faster-a touch louder.
"I've already told you my reasoning…"
He grasped her arm gently, turning her to face him. She gasped at the sudden intensity in his eyes.
"You should marry for love," he interrupted, his voice a bit harsh. "You deserve that much."
"Deserve?" Rose scoffed. "What does it matter what I deserve! That's not how the world works and you know-"
"I don't know anything!"
His voice reverberated off the metal walls around them, causing Rose's mouth to snap closed.
"A few days ago I would never have imagined myself here-like this," he continued, his voice steady. "My course is irrevocably altered. Why can't yours be?"
Rose blinked.
"Am I a fool, Rose? A fool who thinks that you might feel just a fraction of the way I feel for you?"
Rose felt her mouth go dry. "And what way is that, Thomas?" She asked softly.
Thomas felt his jaw clench. The skin of her arm burned his hand where he still held her. The small booth was filled with her light, summertime scent. Her chest heaved slightly out of her corset, her breath coming quickly with the anticipation of the moment. Thomas ashamedly found his eyes lingering briefly there and then up the pale column of her neck to her full lips, which trembled just slightly.
Before he could think of an answer-of words that could possibly explain the complete change in his world now that she was a part of it, his body answered for him, his full lips claiming hers in one fluid motion.
Other than a brief, stolen kiss or two from Cal, Rose was inexperienced. She felt the breath leave her lungs as he pulled her impossibly close to him. One strong arm held her across her back, his large fingers grasping just slightly at the silks of her dress. His other hand had languidly cupped the back of her head, coming to lock in the thick curls, holding her face to his tenderly.
Rose froze as Thomas's lips gently molded to hers, a mixture of shock and excitement rendering her incapable of movement for a few moments. Then, as if moving of their own accord, she felt her arms rise up against his chest and timidly come to rest around his neck. She allowed her hands to form to the back of his neck as he deepened the kiss in response.
He took advantage of her dropped guard and allowed his tongue to explore the velvet of her mouth. Involuntarily, a small moan escaped from the back of her throat as he pulled her closer, his hand moving just slightly lower so that his fingertips rested just at the swell of her backside.
Encouraged, she rounded on him, momentarily taking control of the kiss, emboldened to use her tongue in a similar fashion. So overcome with the overwhelming sensations of being so physically close to him, Rose pushed him backwards just slightly so that his back rested against one of the walls. He made a noise of surprise as she pulled herself even closer to his chest, her soft lips devouring his own.
The primal response in him drew his hand to her breast, his thumb forming a cup around the outline of her corseted form. She gasped and he silently cursed the complicated, stiff style of women's underwear. She pulled at his shirt, needing him to be closer. She breathed deeply, inhaling him, wanting him all around her…
She pulled back, her hand instinctively going to her lips. They stared at each other, both panting.
"Rose," he breathed darkly. "I want you."
Rose gasped again, surprised and surging at his honest and raw declaration. "We…we can't…" she said, her voice void of conviction.
"I don't want to pretend that this isn't something," he said, his voice husky but joyful. He grasped her hands again and pressed his forehead down to hers. "This is something, Rose."
Rose closed her eyes. "Oh, Thomas," she said, feeling tears stinging her eyes. "He won't let me go," she whispered.
She collapsed into him in an embrace and he kissed the top of her head. His arms stole around her and he held her tightly. "He doesn't have a choice," he said with quiet menace.
Rose looked up at him. "Thomas," she said, her voice a bit stronger. "You don't know Cal. He will stop at nothing to get his way."
"Then perhaps the impudent child needs a lesson," Thomas smiled. He ran his thumb down the side of her face. She turned slightly and kissed his palm.
"He would not rest until you were ruined," she whispered. Her large eyes flashed to him. "He's done it before."
"Cal Hockley does not frighten me," Thomas said, crooking a finger under her chin. "And he should not frighten you either."
Rose shook her head. She felt the tears brimming in her eyes. She buried her face in his firm chest. "I would take care of you, Rose," he said softly. He pushed her back a bit so he could look her in the eyes. "I know we just met," he began, his voice earnest, "but I feel an indescribable pull towards you. Do you feel it too?"
Rose let her eyelids slide closed, the tears that had been threatening to spill over finally flowing down her cheeks. She nodded. "I do," she whispered.
"Then when the ship docks, come with me. I have a project waiting down in the islands off the coast of Florida. We can live on the beach. The sand under our feet and the sun on our backs each day." His voice became more enthused as they spoke. "Life is simpler there; I visited once. We could both break free of the confines of class. We would have a good life, Rose."
She looked at him. The picture he painted was perfect. She could envision it. She sniffled. "Could it really be?" She asked, allowing herself to hope just a bit.
Thomas nodded. "Yes, Rose," he said enthusiastically. "It could be all that and more."
Rose bit her lip. Her heart lurched. Every fiber of her being yearned to scream yes, that she would follow him anywhere. Yet she hesitated. It was so fast. It meant a completely different and exciting life.
But Cal-vindictive, vile Cal-Rose knew him better than anyone did. She knew that the wedding invitations had already been sent to hundreds of members of high society. She knew that to walk away from him would mean his disgrace.
And Cal was not one to be disgraced.
Thomas watched her internal struggle for a moment before becoming suddenly resigned. He nodded and brought her hand to his lips. "I suppose I am a fool," he said, smiling sadly.
Rose shook her head, new tears spilling. "No, Thomas…"
"They've got you trapped, Rose," he said quietly, sounding defeated. "And sooner or later that fire that I love about you is going to go out."
She felt a sob hitch in her chest as he opened the door to the observation booth for her.
They walked in utter silence for some time. After what seemed an eternity, Thomas stopped in front of a non-descript looking door. "This leads to your hallway," he said quietly. "T'would probably be best for you to continue alone."
Rose looked at him, her heart wrenching. He met her eyes and smiled warmly, but with a look of loss about him. "Thomas…I…" She searched for the words. "I would have been so grateful for the life you described."
Thomas's lips pursed. "You still can be."
The yearning swelled in her chest but she fled anyway, too disappointed in herself to stay a moment longer.
Later, Thomas found himself smoking a cigarette on his private balcony. He had quit the habit a year or so ago, yet here he was breathing plumes of white fluff into the sky.
He had taken off his dinner jacket and was now slightly chilled by the night air. He focused on the frigid sensation rather than the ache in his chest.
He should sleep-the sky was already beginning to lighten with the first hints of morning. Yet he knew it would be futile.
Extinguishing his cigarette, he walked back into his main parlor in search of work to occupy his mind when he heard a faint sound.
He stilled.
It sounded like knocking.
He glanced at the large clock on the mantle. It was nearly three in the morning.
He crossed over to his door and looked out the peephole-
And immediately flung the door open. Rose slipped inside, her cheeks flushed and her breath coming fast. Her long hair was down and she was wearing only the silks of her nightgown and robes.
Her feet were bare.
Thomas looked at her in shock. "Did you walk all the way here in that?" He laughed a bit.
Rose laughed nervously too. "Yes," she breathed, shrugging helplessly. "I did!"
"Why?" He asked, already pulling her to him.
"I...I had to come…I wanted to be with you…" She stammered, looking up at him. "I had to be with you..."
It was all she could get out before his lips came crashing down upon hers, effectively silencing her.