Sarah stands straight. He takes her right hand, pulling it to his lips, and lights a kiss upon it. She takes a breath, holding it. Her fingers slide from his hand. He stands tall, grinning down at her. With a click of his heels, he turns around. She exhales, light-headed. Smiling to herself, she watches him walk inside. Her heart pounds. Her cheeks are hotter than ever. She sits down on the bench next to her, hugging herself. Staring at the wooden planks, she replays what just transpired. A man. A quite handsome man. Just, kissed her. Never mind if it was only on the hand. He kissed her. Maybe she should rethink the idea of The Mounding. Footsteps creak the wood again. Peter sits next to her. The bench bends and moans under him. For some unknown reason, a wave of guilt rushes over her. She
