Tommy waited patiently for Clara at the gate where he last saw her. He wasn't sure when she would be done with dinner, but he had still taken his time at his own. Her dinner was sure to be a larger and more drawn-out experience. Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette and watched the exhaled smoke dance in the night air.

He looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. It was Clara, dressed in a green that matched a Christmas tree. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders. Tommy let out a slow whistle as she approached. "If I'd known an angel was coming to see me, I would've gone to church this morning."

"It's not Sunday," Clara countered.

"You got me." Tommy noticed her empty hands. "No notebook tonight?"

Clara spread her arms wide. "Nope. I wanted to fully embrace it. Unless you think I should go back?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. I ain't letting go of you tonight." He held a hand out and she took it without hesitation. He led her down to the deck below where the third class bunk rooms were. "Sorry about the smell," he mumbled as they passed the washrooms. It was hard not to laugh when he glanced at her. She kept a composed face to remain polite, but it was clear this was an entirely new experience. The smell was almost overbearing, and she breathed through her mouth.

Clara smiled at him, almost reading his mind. "I'm fine." She squeezed his hand to emphasize his point. He liked the excuse to hold her hand tighter.

People spoke languages that Clara couldn't understand. Young children ran past them in the narrow hallway. A few older women did double takes at Clara, immediately recognizing her finer dress. She gave them a polite smile and they returned it. They could hear the music a hall away.

"Let me know if you need a break," Tommy said as he opened the door to the general room.

Clara grinned. "I can handle it."

Tommy was right; it was loud and boisterous. The room was crowded with people of all ages and background. A band was set up against a wall, made up of anyone who had brought an instrument onto the ship. People danced on a raised platform in front of the band. Tables surrounded the dancers. Those not dancing decided to smoke, drink and entertain themselves in other ways. Tommy led Clara down the stairs, and suddenly they found themselves in the midst of the crowd. A man passed them carrying two pints of stout. Clara eyed the beer and gestured Tommy toward it.

He raised an eyebrow. "You like beer?"

"Well I'll have to blend in somehow," she said.

Tommy laughed and led her to a table. "Don't go anywhere." He went off in search of their own pints.

With Tommy gone, Clara immediately felt vulnerable. He was her map in this uncharted land. The strangers around her seemed friendly enough. Still, she had no idea how to behave.

That's exactly it, she thought. Forget how you're supposed to act.

Tommy reappeared then, handing her a glass. Clara eyed it carefully. "It looks bigger now that it's in front of me."

Tommy held his glass up, nodding toward hers. "Cheers," he said before taking a big gulp. Clara followed suit and let the drink go down her throat. She'd had alcohol before, but this was more bitter than anything she tried. Her face twisted in reaction to the taste. Tommy smirked. "Not your taste, Queenie?"

She stuck her tongue out in response and took another long gulp. Tommy laughed. "Now you're blending in."

Something across the room caught Tommy's eye and he waved. Clara turned to see a young Italian man and a young Scandinavian woman make their way toward their table. Tommy moved closer to Clara to allow room for the couple to sit with them. Tommy gestured to the man. "Clara, this is Fabrizio… and Fabrizio's friend."

"Helga," Fabrizio offered. Upon hearing her name, Helga extended a hand to Tommy and Clara.

Tommy took it, pointing to himself with the other, "Tommy." He pointed to Clara. "Clara."

The women shook hands and exchanged smiles. Helga said something to Clara that she couldn't understand.

"What?" Clara asked, leaning in.

Helga tapped her collarbone. "Halskjede."

Clara reached for her own collarbone and felt her necklace there. Helga nodded. Clara realized what she was saying. "Necklace?"

Helga shrugged to signal she didn't understand Clara, but she gave Clara an approving smile at the necklace. Clara grinned to say thanks and took another drink from her beer. For being in a situation she never thought she'd find herself, she felt right at home.

Clara and Tommy watched Fabrizio and Helga try to communicate. They used exaggerated hand motions and spoke louder with each word. Tommy laughed and leaned in close to Clara so she could hear over the commotion. He rested a hand on her lower back to steady himself. "It's rather fortunate we speak the same language, my dear."

"Easy for you to say. You're the one with the accent."

"I do not have an accent," he said with his best impression of an American accent.

Clara smirked, and they locked eyes. Suddenly they both realized how close they were. The weight of his hand at her back felt heavier now, but in a comforting way. Clara noticed how Tommy's brown eyes had the faintest hint of gold around the pupil. Freckles sprinkled his nose and cheekbones, a true mark of an Irishman. And under the freckles, a warm pink was growing. "Am I making you blush?" she asked quietly.

Tommy didn't answer. Instead he leaned closer until Clara could feel his breath on her skin.

Almost as if on cue, they were pulled from their trance by a loud bang at their table. They turned to see Jack placing a full pint glass on the table, looking sheepish for interrupting them without realizing early enough. Fabrizio gave Tommy an apologetic look and Helga held a hand in front of a knowing smile. Clara felt her heart drop when Tommy's hand fell from its place on her back. He turned away, cursing under his breath.

Fabrizio quickly started a conversation with Jack and Helga, moving the attention off Clara and Tommy. Clara awkwardly finished her drink as Tommy refused to look at her. She knew he'd come around in his own time, so she turned her attention to the other three. Helga looked lost as ever as Jack and Fabrizio entered into a friendly banter. Soon enough, the young men were arm wrestling. By this point, Tommy relaxed enough to enjoy the company around him but he was still hesitant to interact with Clara. The table watched as Fabrizio and Jack battled it out, cheering both men on. Jack finally pinned Fabrizio's arm down and let out a victorious whoop. As a consolation prize, Helga dragged Fabrizio to the dance platform. Both Clara and Tommy watched as they moved around between the other couples.

"How was the rest of your afternoon, Clara?" Jack asked, pulling her attention away from the dancefloor.

She shrugged. "Nothing too exciting."

He nodded. "And… dinner?"

Clara raised an eyebrow. "I didn't speak to Rose, if that's what you're wondering." Jack struggled to find an excuse, making the other two laugh. Tommy seemed at ease again, Clara noted, judging by the reappearance of his hand at her back.

Tommy finished the rest of his beer, as if summoning up courage, and held a hand out to Clara. "Dance with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said, letting him pull her into the crowd just as the band was starting a new song.

The hand at her back moved to her waist, pulling her close to his chest. She placed one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand. They quickly found the rhythm and joined the other couples moving about in a circle. Tommy flamboyantly spun and dipped Clara every chance he could. He was rewarded with laughs and squeals as she clung closer to him the lower he dipped her.

One song meshed with another, and the couples broke apart into two separate lines of men and women. The lines clapped as couples met up at the head and danced down the middle of them. Clara's stomach hurt from so much laughter, especially when Tommy threw her over his shoulder during their turn. Clara was sure it was equal parts euphoria and the beer that kept her from being irritated at that.

Tommy carried her back over to their table and placed her down. "I'll be right back."

Clara fanned herself as Jack came to sit next to her. He smirked at her. "So, Tommy Ryan, eh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Tommy's nuts about you," he said. "And from what I can tell, you're pretty close behind."

Clara pushed him on the arm. "I think you should mind your own business."

Jack laughed and gave the seat back to Tommy, who returned with two more beers. He handed one to Clara. "Gotta rehydrate after all that exercise." He took a large drink and Clara kept up with him.

The next hour flew by in a blur in dancing, drinking and fun. Clara tried her hand at a dartboard set up in a far corner of the room. Tommy took her back to the dancefloor, promising not to pick her up this time.

Both out of breath, Tommy led Clara away from the party and out to the fresh air. It was much cooler out on the exterior deck, with bright stars twinkling against the dark sky. The sound of waves against the ship and the low rumble from the steam towers replaced the loud cheers and music from inside. They were the only ones in sight. All was quiet.

Clara rested her forearms on the deck railing, looking out on the ocean. "I don't think I've had that much fun in my life," she said in between breaths.

Tommy leaned his back against the railing, watching Clara. Her eyes were closed. A light breeze blew her blonde hair from her neck and cooled the sheen of sweat on her forehead. "I'm glad you liked it."

Clara sighed and turned toward him. "Thank you for inviting me tonight."

Tommy moved closer. "I hope you got more material for your notebook."

"I don't have to write everything down," she said, looking down and avoiding eye contact. She remembered the intensity they shared earlier and she still hadn't decided how she felt about it.

Tommy put an arm around her waist. His other hand moved a lock of hair that stuck to her face. His fingers traced down to her chin, turning it toward his face. "Kiss me, Clara."

"You're drunk."

"No'm not."

"No'm not," she said, mimicking his slur. Tommy ignored the comment, and Clara could see him glance back and forth between her eyes and mouth. Clara's eyelids lowered as Tommy's face came near. His lips were on hers in an instant. Clara was overwhelmed with tobacco, cigarettes, delight and confusion. Her hands were on his chest and she didn't know whether to pull him closer or push him away.

In a flash decision, she settled for the latter. "We can't... I can't. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" he asked. His eyes pleaded with hers.

"Because… I don't…" she stammered. Both the beer and Tommy created a fuzzy cloud in her head. "I don't know what's going to happen with this. With you."

"We'd figure it out," he suggested. "It doesn't have to end at New York." Clara continued to look away and stay quiet. Tommy felt his mood and heart drop as it dawned on him. "Do you think there's world where we'd end up together?" He spoke quietly, not wanting to know the answer.

Clara gave him a sad look. "Do you?"

He started to respond, then stopped himself. Tommy shook his head. "You don't make sense, Queenie."

"I make perfect sense," Clara said, taken aback.

"No, no you don't," he said. Angry hurt quickly replaced his heartbreak. "Why are you hanging out with me so much? I don't know everything about you, so maybe you're only entertaining yourself with me. But I'm no charity case."

Clara's mouth gaped open. "And what about you? Why are you so keen on being with me? Am I just some brag to your buddies that you got to kiss someone from my status?"

"You don't have to keep reminding me that you're from a different world, Queenie."

The nickname that started as fond was now anything but. "You're the one yelling about charity cases."

"I wasn't yelling at you."

"Yes, you were!" Clara's voice raised.

"Well look who's yelling now."

"I am not yelling," Clara said. She was over this. Whatever this is, she thought. "I'm leaving."

She pulled out of his hold on her waist and walked away. Tears began to form and the last thing she needed was for Tommy to see. There were too many factors right now: the kiss, the beer, exhaustion, anger, hurt. She was confused at everything she was feeling, but she did know one thing. As Clara walked herself back to first class, she knew that Tommy was a few paces behind for as long as he could be.