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It’s shocking to me that I only just met him a day ago.
The moment we reach the base of the lighthouse, it becomes immediately apparent what I’d come to show him. He turns around in seeming slow motion, his eyes unblinking, as he gazes off toward the town. I come up to his side and drink in the sight myself.
Beyond the cliff lies the entirety of Dreamwood Isle in its glittery, nighttime glory. From here, the south side of the island glows with the Quicksilver Strand, alive with lights and music and people shopping, as well as the Elysian and its poolside fanciness, right by the arcade parking lot where we came from. Then the island grows darker as you look off into the distance where the east side of the island holds rows of houses along Sugarberry Beach. The north grows bright again as you take in the sight of the Hopewell Harbor and Fair, freshly open for the summer and bursting with life.
Jonah sighs with amazement. “It’s like a whole other world, seeing it from up here.”
I glance at the side of Jonah’s face. His hair dances in the unexpectedly cool air, playing across his forehead. Even though the entirety of Dreamwood Isle is at our feet, it feels like we’re the only two individuals in the entire universe up here, a ceiling of stars and nothingness over our heads, no one around us, alone together, just us.
I move up to the very edge of the cliff and take a seat. Then I gaze up at Jonah and pat the ground next to me. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Take a seat, drink in the view.”
Jonah bites his lip and glances back at the lighthouse. “Are we allowed to be up here? I’m pretty sure we passed a caution sign somewhere up the path. Didn’t it say ‘no trespassers’? I couldn’t quite make it out in the dark.”
I laugh. “You’re worrying too much. C’mon. Sit beside me and enjoy your new favorite vacation spot.”
Jonah creeps up as close as he dares to the cliff, then takes a seat.
He’s really close to me. Like, really fucking close to me. Clinging to my side, practically.
I fight off a smile. “Afraid of heights?”
“No way. This is great. I love the …” He swallows. “I’m amazed by the view.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I’ve been in this same spot since I was a kid and never once even got close to falling off. You’re safe with me.”
He pastes on a smile. “Thanks, Kent. Really, this is …” He sighs with amazement yet again. “You were right. Total best-kept secret. Not in the brochures. Truly spectacular.”
“It is,” I agree, though my eyes are on Jonah at the moment, taking in the beauty of his wonder.
He’s still staring at the world below when he asks, “So why do you hate tourists so much?”
I lift an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“You said earlier that ‘no annoying tourists’ come here to Cottonwood Cove. It isn’t the first time you implied that we’re all the scum of the earth.”
I snort. “It isn’t so much about the tourists specifically as it is about tour-ism. Dreamwood was something very different just fifteen short years ago. It felt like it was ours. I can still picture the boardwalk when it was just mom-and-pop stores, antiques shops … none of the big-brand designer stuff you see over there now. The island wasn’t this … bright back then. And the more tourism pushes its way in, the more us locals get eaten alive. Taxes skyrocket. Land values soar beyond our means. My mom still talks about the time she only had thirty-five bucks in her bank account. It isn’t long before we’re gonna be right back to scraping by meal-by-meal.” I shrug. “That’s just one part of it. The other part is … well … I guess because of the in-and-out tourism, and how this place became some kind of hot hub for gay single men overnight like a viral video, we all developed a sort of unspoken rule about tourists: don’t fall for one.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “So we’re forbidden fruit, huh?”
“Pretty much.”
“I should have maybe realized how much of a negative impact tourism might have on the local population.” He gazes off. “Maybe I should have paid for the funnel cake.”
I laugh. “Nah, good thing you didn’t. If you’re getting free grub on your first day here, then you’re pretty much one of us already.”
He smiles at that, glancing back at me. “Alright. Let’s try a different angle. Tell me a good thing about tourists.”
“A good thing? Now you’ve gone too far.”
He chuckles. “Seriously! Just one thing you like.”
I stare into his eyes. It’s like staring into the night sky, knowing you’ll never be able to capture all of its splendor in your entire lifetime; no amount of gazing is enough.
