The moment I move in her direction, Leo reaches out for me, wrapping his arm around my waist to stop me from taking another step.
“No,” he says firmly, spinning me around so our eyes meet. “I can’t waste any more precious seconds I have with you. I’ve spent lifetimes without hope or purpose, and I won’t let myself lose out on a moment of this gift.”
“But what if–”
My beautiful ghost shuts me up in the most glorious way, leaning in until his lips find mine. I melt into our first kiss, which starts tentatively as we learn each other in this new physical reality. His lips dance against mine like a butterfly trying to land, but as the passion between us builds, his hands press more firmly against my lower back, my own pulling his head closer to me, our bodies aligning themselves against each other’s like two puzzle pieces designed to fit perfectly together. His tongue teases open my mouth and I dive into this moment with abandon, tasting him and relishing the intimacy of this act. I kiss him with all the heat and power in me, hoping if I love fiercely enough, time will stop, and we’ll be trapped in this moment forever.
Our lips finally pull apart, but we stay locked together in our own world, away from the noise and the monsters and the magic, our foreheads pressed together, our breath still mingling as we orbit each other’s universe. “What if,” Leo says, picking up my sentence that feels spoken a hundred years ago and taking it in a new direction, “we went for a walk?”
I’m torn, and I hate myself for it. I mean, Jesus Christ, AJ, you’re literally living the dream you dreamt last night, and suddenly it’s not good enough?
I smile back at Leo, finding peace in the moment and cherishing the chance to see and feel him.
“A walk sounds lovely.”
We leave our drinks in front of Nyx’s abandoned stool and make our way toward the exit.
Our heads swivel around as we head back up the stairs, watching werewolves and leprechauns and witches and ghosts mingle. When I’m able to see past the outrageous partygoers, I look at the inner workings of this impressive vessel, the feat of engineering that met such a dastardly fate. I smile every time I see an octopus wall sconce. Every ghost wearing early 20th-century attire and smoking a cigarette is incredibly charming.
The twisted sector of my brain hopes maybe we’ll get a repeat iceberg crash and I can play the role of Kate Winslet and Leo can be… holy shit, his name is already Leo.
That thought passes quickly as I remember how freaking sad the end of the movie always made me. The parallels to our own story hit a little too close to home. I pull my love a little closer as we step out into the night air, reminding myself that the goal is to savor every second. I just hope we don’t meet a similar fate to the original ill-fated voyagers of this infamous boat, leaving me stuck singing sad Celine Dion songs to the misery of all.
It’s a warm night, defying my irrational cinematic expectations. Then again, a supernatural ball is sort of inherently in defiance of expectations; maybe it's time to stop expecting things.
In the distance, we can hear a band playing and people having a rowdy, good time. Where we are, a thick fog rolls over the deck, a red tint coloring the haze. We decide this is the spot for us--not needing to go listen to a band or see what the other guests are up to. We’d rather stay lost in the fog, unnoticed by the other partygoers
We find a spot along the outer rails of the ship, and I’m a little bummed that the fog is too thick for me to see down into the water. Water nymph intrigue and whatnot. I can’t help but wonder where the hell we are. Does this place actually exist, or are we in some kind of magical limbo? Maybe that’s why my ghost boy got a body for tonight because we’re in an alternate reality.
Leo never stops looking at me the whole time, and I feel his gaze even as I study the ship. It takes a little courage to return his stare, only because my insides catch on fire every time our eyes meet.
“You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined,” he says, his deep voice barely loud enough to hear.
“What do you mean, ‘imagined?’ Haven’t you been able to see me this last year?”
He shakes his head. “Yes and no. I could see the world around me but as if everything is on the other side of a prism. Now you’re in plain sight, and…”
He trails off, thank God, because I’m on the verge of some explosive crying, and every word pushes me a little closer to that makeup disaster.
After a short respite of silence, I decide to blow this conversation wide open. If this really is our one night together, I’m going to leave it all on the floor.
“Why do you love me?” I ask. “Why choose me?”
The question catches him off guard, but he seems to give it serious thought.
“I… I feel like you chose me. My entire existence, living and dead, my voice has gone unheard. Aside from those moments in battle, I had no say in how my life was lived. When we met in the bar, you spoke to me even though you couldn’t see me. You heard and believed me. I kept waiting for you to move on, to find a physical companion, but you didn’t stray. Why would I not love you, Anna Jane?”
Tears are straight-up soaking my face and dress at this point, but I don’t care. “You’re the first person to say my name and make it sound good.”
This time, I take the lead, pulling his mouth to mine, increasing the heat from our first kiss to the point where we both feel almost out of control. I need this man so badly. Heaven help me, I need him for more than one night.
“I want to take you down to the bottom of the ship,” I say, taking his hand and leading him back toward the crowd.
“What’s down there?” he asks though he willingly follows my lead.
I look over my shoulder and give him a sultry wink right before we reach the main entrance.
“Private rooms.”
6
I erase from my mind anything that might exist beyond this one night. Well, maybe not erase, but I definitely bury that pain deep. If this one damn night is all I get, I’m not going to waste it mourning him. I’ll have the rest of my life for that.
What we need now is some privacy. The upper floors have some fancy-looking rooms, but I figure we should get farther away from the main action if we really want privacy.
A few floors down, now on the F deck, the crowds are thinning, but the private quarters are more cramped and mostly offer bunk beds, which is not my ideal way to spend what could be our only sexual rendezvous. Just as I’m starting to think we need to head back to the stairs, we stumble on something absolutely perfect.
“The Turkish Baths!” I say, squeezing Leo’s hand.
We walk into the Cool Room--the central resting area--and I gasp in awe. It’s got a Turkish vibe that mixes Moorish and Arabic styles with walls covered in glossy blue-green tiles, richly carved teak, and bronze lamps. Every detail has been brought back to its original glory through the magic of this night, and I feel transported to another time. The ceiling is recessed and painted a deep crimson with gilded beams and hanging lanterns, supported by pillars encased in teak. Against one wall is a marble drinking fountain. The doorways stand out with gilded semi-domes, and throughout the room are teak folding chairs, Damascus tables, and cushioned chaise lounges for relaxing. The rich wood and vibrant colors in the tiles make the room feel majestic, and I want to spend more time here but not yet. First we swim.