Finally, after much waiting, the sun had set, and night had blanketed itself over the city. The moment I could, I ran from the house. No one seemed to notice, let alone mind. (I'd later learn that only my father had indeed noticed, but had no clue of what to think of it.)

My steps were quick, my heels clacking against the cobbled streets. My cheeks flushed, blotched with pinks and reds from a combination of hurried movement and sharp cold. I wished they hadn't even noticed the temperature - they were the only part of my body that did as I rushed along.

Each step, each turn, sent a tingle of anxiety through my entire body. This was really happening. I had found a man I was attracted to, finally! A man that was, (I hope.), attracted to me..!

As I was swimming in the sea of my own thoughts, I had reached the bridge sooner than I ever imagined I could. I stopped, catching my breath. To be winded in front of him would be terrible.

After a few seconds, I was able to breathe normally. Plastering a genuine smile on my face, still red from the cold, I turned towards where we met last night. Nothing. I saw nothing. All there was in the vast picture laid out before me was fog and mist. The moon didn't even peek out to see my embarrassment.

"Did he forget me...?" I coughed out the words before I had the chance to stop them, and before I knew it, I was running full speed to where he was the previous night.

Panting, I slowly turned. My eyes focused intensely on both entrance ways to the bridge, even over the water, in case he came by boat. I still saw nothing. Nothing but this damned fog! What if he had left just before I showed up, unable to see me through this terrible London weather?

"Oh, I don't think it's terrible," he spoke slowly, his voice raising every hair on my body to attention. "In fact, it's quite... gorgeous," he stepped closer behind me.

"What?" I turned to face him, and he seemed even more beautiful than I remember. Tonight, he had donned himself in a green suit matching the red he wore last night. I preferred him in the red.

"You said the weather in London was terrible. I'd have to disagree," he took a few more steps closer.

"I never said that..." I croaked the words out, startled that he had heard my thoughts.

"I believe you did, Miss," more steps. He was so close.. I could reach my hand out and touch him...

"I... I guess I did?" Had I? I don't remember speaking... Oh, how absent minded I am!

"Either way, I can tell that you secretly enjoy the fog," with this, he tilted his head up slightly, staring down his nose, through his glasses, at me. His eyes twinkled. His cheeks seemed paler than they were...

"Well, yes, I do..." I released a small smirk, as my smile had faded at the thought of being left. "But how would you know that?"

"Oh, I can tell," he was smug, but it simply made him more attractive to me. Why was he so overpowering?

"I suppose I'll leave it at that, then," my smirk grew into a grin. I stepped closer. I could smell him now. Oh, a wondrous smell of... fresh dirt? ...What?