It was the night sky that made Rose most lonely. She would peer out of her window and gaze up at the often-clear surroundings, her eyes filled with tears. Maybe it was the fact she was being shipped off to America to get married to man she despised. Or possibly the fact that there was no way out and her life was being planned by her mother in which she had to sit with pompous and arrogant women talking about their rich husbands and the weather.

"Psssst!"

Rose nearly fell out of the window in horror. It was a silent street, where the grand houses on a private road lay. She didn't expect anyone to be around this late, and especially not climbing up her house!

"Psssst!"

Rose heard the sound of someone getting her attention and peered over cautiously. She was not the type to lock her window and hide. She was a curious girl and a sense of happiness rushed to her as a young, blonde haired man smiled up at her.

"Hi."

The voice broke the silence. It was the common accent that brought music to her ears. After being stuck with the rich men and woman all year, she was glad to hear a more normal tone. Rose paused for a moment, confused, but before letting him up she rushed to her room, brushing her sleek red hair and giving a short smile in the mirror. Perfect. She looked good.

"Who are you?" she boldly said, although her voice was slightly trembling.

"I was walking along and saw you out of your window. Mind if I keep you company?" he grinned once more, giving her a quick wink. Rose was filled with disgust.

"Of course not! Who do you think I am? A common prostitute!" Maybe Rose had mistaken this poor man for a lifesaver, a way to get out. The young man simply laughed.

"Well in France, you know if a girl is hanging out of her window; it's a sign she's looking for some."

Rose slammed her window so hard the hinge completely broke off sending the window straight up. In despair she attempted to bring the window back down, but it flew straight out of her reach and was left hanging out of the window once more. She looked flustered, her hair had fallen out of its usual tied up state and her heart was beating rapidly. She was more out of the window, and got a closer look at the boy.

She was no more than his age, a handsome blonde with cheeky features, which made Rose's heart beat even faster.

"That's a yes?"

"Completely not!" but even Rose had even forgotten to frown as she caught his gaze.

"The real reason is, I was drawing you from the distance over there, and I want to show you."

Rose was silent. Drawing her? She was amazed. Cal had always hated Rose's passion of art, and it drew her insane to listen to Cal go on about the "waste of money" and "a waste of time" he always mentioned whenever Rose shared her interests with him. She secretly went livid whenever he argued with her about the cost of a Monet, or Picasso, as to her; these were priceless. She had found a stranger, who shared more in common with her than her fiancé. It hit Rose harder than ever but was interrupted by the young boy hanging onto the window ledge.

"I might fall any minute," he panted, his palm growing sweatier as he grasped on, hoping she would let him into her bedroom. In his other hand was a large indigo green notebook, which he transferred into his mouth so he could haul himself up.

Once he was in her room he did not say anything. He was too busy gawping at the interior of her room. The large oak boarders and the patterned mirror, engravings beautifully carved around the frame, small paintings he observed first hand and smiled.

"More class than I had expected"

"Once again, I am not a prostitute", Rose sighed "Well, come along, show me your drawings"

The young boy hesitated but slowly lay his soft hands onto the jade book, and turned to the page where Rose was, leaning seductively out of the window, her gentle face peering up into the stars. He had captured the beauty of the night, and had illuminated Rose's face. She felt embarrassed as he drew tears on her face, but they made her look captivating. Rose was shocked. It was the best drawing of her, the only. She gazed smiling at the sketchbook and tried to keep back the tears sparkling into her eyes.

"You must go." She softly spoke. It was unreal. A man she had never met before, clean off the streets was in her bedroom. She was getting married! It was absurd.

"What?" He muttered. "What's your name?" he stared into the depths of her eyes, knowingly.

"Rose."

She looked back down onto the sketchbook and tried to flick back the pages. His hands stopped her.

"You're not allowed to see the rest unless I can see you again"

"I barely know you."

"I'm Jack Dawson. A free spirit" he grinned again.

It kicked Rose in the stomach hard. She could barely breathe. She forced a smile but it went crooked.

"And what do you mean Free Spirit, Mr Dawson?" she half-hoped he didn't mean what she thought he did,

"A Free Spirit. I go to place from place with only a couple of dollars and the air in my lungs. I get by and see the world, I'm not owned. I hate ownership you see. My perfect life is with my right now. I've got my body, my hands and my notebook to draw. I've been on the road for a while, and when I look out at a starry night and see you it gives me pleasure to know you'll always be in here."

He gently patted his jade book.

Rose stiffened. After all the fuss with her mother about money being everything, and class is what you depend on, she felt ill. How could a man do so much while she was trapped trying to cling onto what spirit she had left. Her life was all about Cal, her fiancé who dominated everything she did. Cal wanted her perfect in his perspective. A well-mannered lady who did anything for him and Rose hated it. She hated it with a passion. She had thoughts about ending her life, getting rid of the life she hated and hopefully creating a new one; but when Jack Dawson appeared to her she knew what she had to do.

"Please. Take me with you."

"Jack, please"

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and Cal Hockley burst open…

Chapter three almost ready. Please review!