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Mr. Tomlinson sat at the table in the First Class dining room, glancing around anxiously at the rich folk walking in and strutting around elegantly. Really, they were just as elegant and fancy as they always were aboard the floating palace of Titanic. He paid them no mind, however, as he looked for Louis among the entering people.

"Darling, have you happened to find our son by any chance?" he said to his wife, who was chatting with Miss Aubert. The French singer and mistress of Guggenheim was certainly a woman to look at. He really didn't know what made Louis agitated about her to begin with the first few days of their stay.

"No, I have not. I really have not the slightest idea what is in that boy's mind these last few days." Mrs. Tomlinson chuckled, patting the arm of her new female friend.

"Mr. Tomlinson, please excuse my intrusion into your familial life, but I have seen your son around for myself," the mistress said. "It was completely by accident, rest assured. I was simply in the right place at the right time."

Mr. Tomlinson instantly became interested in what she had to say, despite what she said before to his son's face. He didn't even remember those awkward dinner conversations as being caused by her, he just remembered Louis' inappropriate reactions to something she said.

"Please, continue."

Miss Aubert took a breath before explaining how she had noticed Louis' fatigue and general disconnection to anything around him. He was obviously tired, but from what? That explained  his drinking the night before, explaining the fatigue and nauseated pallor. "First Class citizens never stay up so late as to look dead the morning after," she said.

Mrs. Tomlinson's face looked mortified, seeing the evidence of her son's unusual behaviour the day before. "Oh, my good gracious. No, Louis knows ten times better than to drink. And where on Earth would he obtain the . . .?"

Suddenly, she saw the truth. Mrs. Tomlinson pieced together the puzzle, and all of it showed on her face. Mr. Tomlinson picked up on her gradual quietness. "Johannah? What is it, my love?"

"He got it after Harry left," she whispered, while more connections established in her mind.

"Got what? Got what after Harry left?" her husband demanded.

"He must have followed Harry back to the lower decks after dinner, t-t-to . . ." She broke out in silent tears as the gravity of her son's misbehaviour weighed upon her shoulders.

"There, there, Johannah," the mistress said soothingly, stroking her arm as she wept into a handkerchief. "We mustn't get distraught, now."

"I am distraught," Johanna whimpered, "because of the consequences that would follow. And that they would tear Mr. Styles and Louis apart."

"Well, is that not our goal, mum?" Mark said to his wife. "Harry is a bad influence on our son."

"Mark, dear, art thou blind?" She smiled slightly. "When they do, Louis will be heartbroken. He will be heartbroken because we took away the only person he truly loves."

----

I never had such a great time in Third Class, even after my horridly hardy vegan lunch was over and the place was converted to a smoking room. I met Anne's husband on the way out of the dining hall and, dare I say, it was rather awkward and not very pleasant to be around him.

"So, my boy," he said loudly as he clasped Harry around the shoulders, "I'd've sworn on m'life that you were growing affectionate o' the woman in the cabin across from us."

I had to cover my ears as he practically guffawed in my face. Although, I did find that small piece of information quite humourous. No doubt that Harry would not have ever done that before meeting me, and being "infatuated" with me.

Harry scoffed. "Pop, she was far too breast-less to be worthy of my gaze."

His father continued laughing loudly as he took a long, slow drag of his pipe and made his way into the smoking room. Just before he pushed past us, though, he said, "Great to meet ya, Mr. Tomlinson. Harry talks nonstop about you, by the way."

I glanced over at Harry with a crooked eyebrow as he picked up on the mutual sentence between his family. Over his mum's shoulders he mouthed, They're lying. I rolled my eyes and chuckled, yet I could feel the blush creeping up to the edges of my cheeks.

"Alright, you two, I know you're tryin' to get some solitude from us old folk, so go along and play. Louis," Anne said, pulling me in close, "I'm terribly sorry if we dragged you out of your lunch with your family, we didn't mean to. So I would advise you to stay clear of them and the top decks if you're to get in a puddle with them, yeah?"

I nodded and smiled, understanding what she meant. A part of me would miss dinner and the chance to get some good, solid food, but the majority of me was overjoyed to stay in Third Class for the rest of the day.

"So what do you want to do, Lou? Got about a few hours to kill before dinnertime," Harry said, pretending to pull out a pocket watch and examine it like a gentleman would.

I snickered at his mockery. "I don't know, really. I haven't been almost anywhere even on the higher decks, to be honest."

"Well then, let's not waste anymore time lolling around now, shall we?" Harry said with a mischievous smirk.

The next few hours were a drive to waste time and have a thrill aboard the ship. Our first activity, and later to be our only, was to go see if there were any dolphins "galloping" in time with the ship. Harry used the term as an analogy to horses, saying that dolphins were like horses but living in the ocean.

"Oh, alright, so you took the liberty to call me strange whilst you, on the other hand, classify dolphins as aquatic stallions," I said with much sarcasm.

Harry and I were on the stern end of the ship, where no member of the ship's crew or person aboard the ship went around much. There was, however, one lad donned in a loose coat far behind us with a sketchbook in hand, but he looked to be asleep. Just like the previous day, it was our private spot to do just about anything we wanted whereas the other side was crowded and dangerous territory for me to go for risk of someone seeing me. Harry had no business there, anyways.

He laughed, his delectable curls flopping in the ocean breeze. "You had me there, love. That-that was really good."

We laughed wholeheartedly as the sun began to set down on the other side of the world, coloring the oceans in a tint of gold and turning the skies into a simmering fire. It was a peaceful, tranquil scene that could only be experienced aboard a ship. It really was inconvenient when my seasickness kicked in, however.

"Hey, you alright there?" Harry said, watching as I doubled over the railing.

I gagged on a knot in my throat. "I-I'm fine. Just a bit sick is all."

He sighed in relief. "Oh, okay. Phew. For a moment there I thought you were about to suicide yourself. I swear, I got so fucking scared."

I laughed and felt my face heating up again. Good Lord, if my face was to heat up anymore in a single day it could be used as an oven! "Yeah, I doubt I would have a jolly great time catching up to the ship if I fell over."

Harry smirked, shrugging as he did so. "You wouldn't be alone, anyways. You jump, I jump."

A snort involuntarily left my mouth. "Is that code for jumping on me, Mr. Styles? Since I'm a woman and all?"

He remembered the conversation we had that day, our first real conversation the morning of my conflict with the idiots on the deck. And he laughed so hard for my referencing to that time that he began spilling tears.

After he regained himself and cleared his throat, he crossed his arms behind his back like a proper gentleman and strode up to me before placing his hands on both rails. I was pinned to the railing, mere inches from him. He looked at me seductively, emerald eyes reflecting off the sun behind me. He didn't say a word, and with each passing second I became more and more uncomfortable.

"Sure," he said at last.

I was so fazed by his wordless seduction that I almost didn't know what he was saying. "What d—?"

And in a fleeting moment, I was cut off as . . . he kissed me. Warm, solid, tough. This experience was far more strange than another time when I kissed one of my female friends from early childhood years. She and I were about twelve years old at the time, and she was so pretty and I was so impulsive, and as a result of being twelve I ended up kissing her. What I fantasized about it turning into a make-out session turned into a make-it-up session. After tattling on me to my nanny—who was Dahlia, in fact—and a palm to my face, I was made to apologize to her parents and to her in front of everyone in the house during dinnertime. It was embarrassing, and I learned my lesson well.

This, however, was very much not a fantasy. It wasn't even compulsive on my part. This was a different feeling, a feeling that was enjoyable. We kissed for a fairly short amount of time but stayed glued together for much longer. It wasn't long, though, before the fanfare pronouncing dinner had arrived.

"We should go," Harry said into my ear. He looked behind his shoulder, but the lad who was supposedly asleep on the bench behind us was gone.

I murmured something of a "yes" before trailing behind him as we descended down to the lower decks. We had to keep our heads down and shoulders hunched over as we passed through the Grand Stairwell, and I even caught sight of Mother and Father. I considered them foreign to me as I looked away from them dressed up in their best, Mother in a shimmering gown of jewels and Father in a custom-tailored black suit topped with a hat.

"Come on, Lou," Harry said.

We descended the floors of the ship until we reached the F Deck, where the noise of the propellers hummed against the floor. We entered the dining room, where it was more packed than ever. Harry located Anne sitting with her husband towards the back of the saloon, and grasping my hand, we made our way over. I was unable to look either of them in the eye before taking a seat on the stiff, unpadded chair.

"You two enjoy yourselves today?" Harry's father said. He looked to be more collected and soical than boisterous as he was before.

"Yes, sir," I said. "Loads of memories we had garnered today."

Harry chuckled as we made eye contact. Loads of memories indeed . . . What's next?

"Good, that's real good," Anne said warmly, no hint of a tease in her voice. "Did you get in trouble today, Louis?"

"Nope," I said proudly. "Not a-one of 'em in sight."

After our food was delivered—I chose to eat more vegetables, despite their toughness—the place became cleared out again to be made for the smokers and card gamers. This time, no one left from the saloon. A wide open platform was left in the middle where a few tables were left surrounding it, and a man strode up with a fiddle in hand and began to play an upbeat tune. In no time, everyone was dancing or drinking or both.

"Remember this?" Harry gestured to everything around us, leaving his hand specifically pointed at the already drunk men.

I laughed and buried my face in his shoulder. "And to think I would never drink again."

----

Mr. Tomlinson became more agitated by the minute. Everything was looking grand, ranging from his wife to the dining to his children. Everything but for one exception. Louis.

"Johannah, dear, Louis is still absent," he said irritably. "He . . . he better not be—"

His wife shushed him, trying to keep him from allowing his temper to flare. "Darling, he isn't. Just . . . When he turns up sometime, whether it be tonight or the day the ship docks, we will know of his absence and justice will be served." Mrs. Tomlinson had a difficult time saying that, because deep in her heart, she knew that it was the most awful thing that would come, despite how justified it woud be.

"Oh, no, I will not tolerate his absence until we dock. Heavens, no," Mr. Tomlinson said. "When he shows up, I will make sure he gets his punishment and that justice will be served for that Styles boy. I don't care how sentimental it will be for you, it will be done."

Mrs. Tomlinson was beside herself with emotion at her husband's demands. But he only continued. "I have a feeling he will turn up tonight in his suite. He won't appeal to the doll-sized beds down below."

"Sir, how would you like your caviar?" a waiter prompted him.

"I will have none, thank you," he replied, standing up from his chair. "I have other business to attend to."

----

The music gradually softened to a lovely tune meant for the lovebirds in the low decks of the ship. Louis watched as people filed off the platform mounted in the center of the dining area, and he stiffened as butterflies fluttered around in his stomach. Nervous butterflies.

"Harry, we're two of twelve people left in here," I said in his ear.

"OK, Lou." His baby-soft face was tucked down into the crook of my neck, and with each murmur from his mouth, the vibrations made my nerves jump with ecstasy.

"Can we get off the stage, please?" I begged, but feeling guilty of ending our quiet moment.

He was silent. "D'you want us to be alone together?"

"Yeah, that would be nice."

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