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overlooks the bay.
Along the cliff edge is a row of coin-operated telescopes that have been
positioned in front of high metal stools. An old man has been sitting on the
one at the far end of the deck the whole time we've been at The Point. When he
sees us approaching, he carefully climbs down off the stool and walks away. We
keep walking until we’re at the railing at the edge of the cliff. I look out at
the sweeping horseshoe shaped bay bordered by golden dunes that the local kids
like to slide down in summer. The small township lies just behind the dunes,
and I see if I can spot my house.
    “Hey
kid,” Crew says next to me. I look up into his face and see that his expression
is serious. All of the morning’s joking and playfulness has gone.
    “Yeah?”
    He
looks down at me.
    “Do
you want to try something with me?”
    I
look sideways at the line of hang gliders swan diving off the cliff above us
and then back at him. Oh God, please don’t let him be one of those adrenaline
junkie guys.
    He
can see my thoughts flittering across my face, and his mouth twitches in
amusement.
    “Close
your eyes.”
    I
laugh nervously but do as I'm told, the smell of salt from the sea and the feel
of the wind on my face and the back of my neck suddenly intensified now that
everything is dark. I'm about to ask him what he's doing when I feel warm hands
under my arms, and then I'm being lifted in the air. I let out an unattractive
yelping sound and then I'm back down again, sitting backward on one of the
metal stools next to the telescopes. I can feel the eyepiece digging into my
back. I stay like that for a few seconds, my hands gripping the seat on either
side of my hips and my legs dangling in free air. I start to open one eye to
see what's going on, but he catches me.
    “Uh
uh. Keep em’ closed.”
    When
I was a child my older sister Marty used to play a game a bit like this, only
then I always used to end up with a wet willy in my ear or something revolting
in my mouth. I clamp my lips together tight.
    Just
when I'm beginning to get impatient, I feel his hands on each of my knees.
They're warm through the denim of my jeans, and I clutch the seat harder. He
applies gentle pressure, just a nudge, and opens my legs a little wider. My
heart is banging in my chest like a drum, and I'm willing myself not to blush.
He closes the gap between us and even though I can't see, I know that we’re
almost nose to nose.
    “Do
you trust me?” he says softly.
    I
hesitate for a second because my brain is telling me that I can't possibly
trust a man I only met yesterday. But my heart is speaking too, and it’s saying
something different. Before I can stop myself, I hear my voice saying, “Yes.”
    He
reaches behind my head and gently pulls the elastic from my hair. I feel the
mass of it drop heavily against my back, and strands of it lift and fly around
in the wind.
    “Uh,
Crew?” I say half jokingly, my eyes still closed. “Is this going to hurt?”
    I
hear him laugh softly in front of me.
    “Not
even close.”
    And
then his hands are on either side of my face and up into my hair. He threads
his fingers through the curls and rests them there, cradling my head in his
hands. I open my mouth to say something but he says “Ssssshhh,” and only then
do I realize that his mouth is right next to mine. I can feel his words like
breath tickling my lips. He stays there for a couple of heartbeats, not moving,
and then suddenly his mouth is right there. The rough prickle of his stubble
rasps against the sensitive skin of my face and the softness of his bottom lip
is warm where it presses against mine. He's slow and deliberate, and he keeps
his hands firmly in my hair so that I can't move. He moves his mouth on mine,
applying gentle pressure, opening my lips a little, and then backing off. My
hands are still on either side of the stool gripping it so hard that the cold
metal digs into the palms of my hands. I lift them up and place them gently on
either