"Oh, Chloe, not tonight," her mother says, alarm in her voice. "These gentlemen have to be up early to go to work, and it's getting late. You must also be tired."

"Me, I am never tired." She tosses her head and pouts. "Oh, mummy, don't be such a wet blanket!" 

She runs across to a far corner where the record player lies, in an open cabinet, and Alistair lumbers after her, anxious to please, his eyes filled with adoration. 

"Mummy, aren't there any newer records? These are so OLD."

"Those are all we have, dear," Mrs. Lee says, looking rather agitated. "Nobody listens to records anymore." Chloe turns her back on her, and starts to sift through the stack of records, Alistair at her elbow, talking in low voices. 

Mrs. Lee says to me, a little apologetically, "We've had that record player for years, it's very old, my husband bought it when we were first married -  it must have been oh, 32, 33 years ago...how time flies..."

"I'm tired," I say. "I think I will say good night." 

Mrs. Lee rises from her chair. "I'm tired too, I'll go to my room. Good night." 

It is Caspian who opens the door for us. Mrs. Lee climbs up the stairs, and disappears around the bend.

He is standing very still, blocking my path.

"Well, good night," I say, avoiding his eyes,  a little tremor running down my spine as I squeeze past him. I have forgotten how tall he is, how magnetic. 

"Wait."

He catches my hand in his.

"It has been a long time...nereid..."

And the world stops.

Everything stops.

Dimly, I am aware of snatches of voices coming to me from across a huge divide; familiar yet strange, distant, disembodied.

     - he's taking so long -

    - what say we dance first? -

     - well, I don't know -

    - oh, please, Miss Chloe -

    - well -

    - oh, please, just one dance -

    - oh, very well, if you insist -

I can't breathe.

His hand is holding mine, his palm warm, strong, rough against mine. 

I lift my eyes to his, and meet the quizzical glance that has disturbed me so; I look at his face, the face that has troubled my nights, and my waking hours, and plagued me with strange, restless dreams. I look at his lips, and I feel weak suddenly, as I remember the wild tumult those lips had stirred in me, and I draw in my breath shakily, the treacherous colour suffusing my cheeks, my heart hammering, pounding in my chest, my ears, so loudly - surely, surely, he can hear it?

"I was wondering if you'd recognise me," I say, hoping to sound calm and cool, like a very poised, a very sophisticated 19 year old, an adult, a grown woman. 

But what I hear instead is a breathless kind of whisper, and I wish, oh God, I wish my words unsaid the moment they left my lips, because they had come out all wrong; they sounded wistful, filled with an underlying thread of longing, as if I had been waiting in an agony of anxiety all night for some gesture, some sign of recognition from him...

He presses the hand that he still holds. 

How can a man's palm be so hard, and yet so gentle?

"Once seen, impossible to forget."

I catch my breath at his words, spoken so lightly, so flirtatiously.

Perhaps he speaks like this all the time to all the females who cross his path.

Be still, my heart.

He does not mean a word of it.

But...

It is too late.

You see, I am weak.

I should have spun on my heels, and said very coldly and firmly, "Good night  Mr. Jeong."

I should have walked away, my head held high.

I do nothing of the sort.

Instead, I feel a thrill, a surge of pure joy.

I wonder if he sees my heart in my eyes, looking down at me from his great height?

I wonder if he sees the warring emotions in there, see my eyes dazzled, bemused, confused, exhilirated?

His lips curve, and his eyes warm.

His eyes.

They mesmerise me.

One could drown in those eyes.

From the living room comes the blare of the record player, and the strands of a song.

"May I have this dance?"

I stare at him, looking up into his face, the dim light casting strange, fantastical, flickering shadows on his face.

"For old time's sake?" I can see the laughter in his eyes. "Before you run off at midnight..." His eyes are half-mocking, and yet...and yet, oddly tender, "...like Cinderella..."

He gives my hand a tug, and I am in his arms somehow, and he is holding me pressed against him, his cheek against the top of my head.

The soft strands of the song come to me, like fragments of a forgotten world, a bygone era, where men wore black and white tuxedos, and swept their hair back, and drank champagne, and wooed their women with soft whispers and exquisite chivalry, and kissed them under the stars.

He croons, his cheek on mine, his warm breath fanning my ears.

 

"Look at me, 

I'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree;

And I feel like I'm clingin' to a cloud,

I can' t understand

I get misty, just holding your hand.

 

Walk my way,

And a thousand violins begin to play,

Or it might be the sound of your hello,

That music I hear,

I get misty, the moment you're near.

 

Can't you see that you're leading me on? 

And it's just what I want you to do,

Don't you notice how hopelessly

I'm lost

That's why I'm following you.

 

On my own,

When I wander through this wonderland alone,

Never knowing my right foot from my left

My hat from my glove

I'm too misty, and too much in love.

Too misty,

And too much

In love..."

 

 

The song comes to an end, and I look up into his face, dazed.

He bends down, and brushes my lips against his; a feathery touch, light and fleeting, like gossamer, hardly a kiss really...

"Oh," I sigh, and my mouth falls half-open with surprise.

"Tomorrow we will talk," he says softly, looking down steadily into my upturned face. "Sleep well, nereid..."

He walks back into the living room with swift, easy strides, and I hear Chloe's plaintive wail, "Where have you been, Caspian? You've been such an age, and I danced with Alistair first, but really, all I wanted was to dance with you..." 

And then I am running, flying up the stairs, giddy and breathless, light as air...

 

You can view the video of Misty by Johnny Mathis, and the rest of the story on wattpad. 

Here's the link.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/196153358-prince-caspian-jung-yoonoh-nct