I Only See You

I minded my own business, sketching out the scene before me. A grown man holding his daughter, twirling her around as her smile grew brighter by the second. I captured her smiling face in my mind and gazed up to capture each detail of their clothing, their hair, their eyes and with my dark charcoal, the last piece I had, and drew it onto my paper.

I had a feeling that someone was watching me and I'm usually very good at sensing it because no one would stare at me, the poor girl who would walk on her torn shoes everywhere. I looked up at the direction and sure enough, someone was staring.

But not just anyone, it was a man. More like a boy, still young but his face held a serious manly gaze. I looked at him and I thought he'd look away just at my cheap appearance, but he didn't. He continued to look at me and I just wished that I could read his mind. He probably just made remarks about my clothing in his mind. His gaze didn't falter, nor did it turn. He continued to look at me and I continued to look at him.

And then a woman, a girl who looked about my age of sixteen, who dressed in the finest lace dress and corset came up to him, putting her arm around his. Then his gaze turned from me, over to the other girl as I turned back down to my drawing.

I had that feeling that he was looking at me because of an attraction. No, it wasn't a feeling, it was more like a wish. I wished for the years that I have been going without my family that someone would look at me, longingly. The 'love at first sight' look. But, with the way I am dressed, in no way will any boy, any man, especially the one I saw, would even consider to love me as I wished.

+++

"Nick, dinner will be served soon," Julia said to me. I tore my eyes away from the beautiful artist girl and over to the eyes of my fiance. "Your mother told me to call you to get ready."

I nodded and we walked together back to our suite. My mind traveled back to the girl I couldn't stop looking at. I wondered what she thought as I looked into her eyes for what seemed like a long time. She must've thought that I was only making fun of her clothing, for my lack of emotion with my gaze.

While I got ready for dinner, I couldn't stop thinking about the girl. I didn't know her name, I didn't know anything about her except that I felt a connection to her. I could still see the blonde of her hair, the hazel of her eyes, her thin fingers holding her drawing instrument. Despite her obvious poor attire, I hold no prejudice against her, just because of it.

"Are you ready?" Julia asked from behind the bathroom door. I fixed my jacket again, ran a hand though my unruly curly hair and headed out of the bathroom. I took Julia's hand and we walked down to dinner with our families.

Of course, the main dining hall was for the rich only. We were seated at the center table, my family and Julia's, along with the ship builder, who my parents were good friends with. He told us of the making of Lusitania, how it would hold up to anything.

"Let's say that it was attacked, what would happen then?" I asked hypothetically and my parents shot me an appauled look while Mr. Tarver laughed deeply. He was a large man, filthy rich, with a moustache that seemed to curl on it's own.

"Dear boy, we are only sailing for a week, the chances of an attack is slim to none," he replied graciously, still laughing. I still felt my parents shooting me looks as I continued to eat my meal. I sipped a bit of my wine, only wishing that I could swallow it all. My parents forbid me to finish my wine, because it is alcohol and I am only sixteen, but they allowed occasional sips.

Dinner went on and my parents, Julia's parents, and Mr. Tarver and his wife talked while my older brothers occasionally joined in, as did Julia, and I stayed quiet. I was never one to talk, especially when I can't understand what they were saying. No, I understood their conversation well, I just didn't pay attention. It was always the same talk. About money. About families. About status. It's what adults cared about. The only thing they cared about. I thought it was quite ridiculous.

After dinner, the women stayed in the dining room, having tea or whatever they have when the men leave. I decided to pretend that I didn't feel well and the men went ahead. I walked to the front of the ship, wanting some alone time. I sat down at a bench near the tip of the boat and slouched. My parents would scold me if they saw my poor posture. I groaned in my hands and screamed, muffled in my palms. I ran my hands though my hair and I knew they became a mess. I groaned again against my hands, staying still in my position.

While I was in the dining room, I knew that I would have dinners like those for the rest of my well planned out life. I would have to take part and talk intellectually with my other high social friends, compare our money and always impress everyone.

It was not the life I pictured and it was being thrust upon me, at such a young age. Kevin and Joe didn't have a fiance, and they were years older than me. My parents trusted them to find their wives while I was given an arranged marriage. My father told me it was because I would be the heir of his empire, not my older brothers.

"Excuse me," I heard someone say near. I groaned again, more quietly this time. All I wanted was to be alone and I couldn't even have two minutes. "Are you okay?"

I sighed and turned around to the voice and immedietly taken back. It was the beautiful artist, as I refered to her, since I didn't yet know her name. She held the same white pad in her left arm and her right hand was in her pants pocket. She wore no jacket like before, which I thought was crazy because it was pretty cold.

"Are you okay?" she asked again, stepping a little closer. Her voice was smooth and beautiful, the way I had pictured it in my mind when I imagined seeing her again, talking to her, touching her blonde hair.

"I'm fine," I told her, my voice almost trembling. I hoped she didn't notice it too much, not wanting to make a fool of myself already. "I'm just...stressed."

"Okay, I just wanted to make sure you weren't having a panic attack or anything, so I guess I'll leave you alone now," she said and she turned around and started to walk away. Her hair swayed behind her head and she transferred her white paper to her abdomen.

"Wait," I called after her and she turned around but stayed in her place. "What's your name?"

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. She took a few steps forward, still keeping a safe distance between us. "I don't tell my name to strangers," was the sentence that came out of her mouth and I saw a small smile come from her pink, full lips.

"Do I look strange to you?" I asked, playing along with her obvious game. She just shrugged. "Well, I'm Nicholas Jonas. Of the Jonas Oil Company. I was born in Texas but I was raised in New Jersey with my three other brothers. So...am I still a stranger?"

"No, I guess not," she said. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm Cecilia Wilson. I was born in Pennsylvania and I've been traveling all of my life."

Cecilia, what a beautiful name. It fit her well, it was just as beautiful as she was. Cecilia. Cecilia. Cecilia. "Nice to meet you," I told her. "Cecilia."

"Nice to meet you too Nicholas," she replied to me, giving another slight smile.

"Please, call me Nick," I told her. Nicholas was only used by my parents and Julia, who took it upon herself to call me by my real name. I secretly hated being called Nicholas, but I was mostly addressed as it.

"Okay, Nick," Cecilia said and I couldn't help but smile. Now, that I knew her name and another fact about her, it only strengthened the connection I felt with her. We stood five feet from each other and the wind flew by us. We stared at each other once again and I had to fight the urge to walk over to her and kiss her.

I have never felt this way before. The feeling of true attraction, a magnetic pull that was trying to force me to Cecilia. Not only did I feel physically attracted to her, I felt as if she was my soul mate. And I would find out. I had to. Cecilia Wilson made me feel something I had never felt before. Even with just a few minutes of talking and looking into each other's eyes, I felt closer to her than I felt with anyone else.