You weren’t like the other first-class passengers he’d seen strutting around the ship. Sure, you had the airs—the pearls, the silk gowns, the careful way you held your head high—but there was something softer beneath it all.

He had first noticed you during a stolen moment on the first-class promenade, your laugh carrying over the crash of the waves. You weren’t meant to notice someone like him, a third-class nobody sneaking past stewards, but somehow you had.

Tonight, he found you again—alone, perched on a bench near the rail. The breeze toyed with a few loose curls from your otherwise polished hairstyle, and for once, you looked far away, almost lost.

“You shouldn’t be here.” That’s what he should have said. It’s what any self-respecting third-class guy would say to a girl from the other side of the ship. Instead, he sat down across from you without a word.

You didn’t look at him right away. Maybe you expected someone else—someone more polished, more proper. When you finally turned your gaze to him, he half-expected you to tell him off. Instead, you just… stared.

“What?” he asked, leaning back against the bench, his usual smirk faltering under your scrutiny.

“You don’t belong here.” Your voice was softer than he imagined it’d be, less accusatory than he deserved.

“Neither do you,” he shot back. “First-class doesn’t sit out here on the cold deck all by themselves. That’s what the ballroom’s for, right?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you turned back toward the water, your fingers curling around the edges of your coat.

Jason leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He didn’t know why he stayed. Maybe it was the way your silence wasn’t uncomfortable.. Or maybe it was because you reminded him of something he didn’t even know he missed.

“Big guy waiting for you in there?” he asked, tilting his head toward the glowing first-class lounges behind you.