Free The Falling Kind by Randileigh Kennedy Page A

wouldn’t mind staying out late with him. I hoped the way I said it sounded more casual than eager.
                  “Stay here,” he instructed, gathering up our trash. He ran the tray back across the street to Antonio’s and came back to meet me at the table.
                  “How’s your arm by the way?” I asked, finally able to direct my attention to the real reason why we were here. After all, I did promise him the night we met that I would look at it again for him. “Did you unwrap it yet? Any redness?”
                  “It’s fine,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “I’ve had worse.”
                  “Worse than a stab wound? Who are you, Cole Mason?”
                  “Like you’ve never been stabbed before,” he said in a mocking tone.
                  I laughed. “Are you going to tell me what really happened?” I studied his face as he reached out his hand for mine. I grabbed it and he led me towards the beach, not letting go of my grasp. We kicked our shoes off and I was reminded just how short I was next to him without my heels on. The sand felt cold on my bare feet.
                  “I will eventually,” he replied with a smirk. “I’ll tell you what, I know we’re going out on the boat Saturday, but Friday night my friends are having a bonfire on the beach. If you aren’t terrified that’s too much time to spend with me, will you go with me? It doesn’t start until nine, but after midnight, that’s when all my secrets come out.” His smile was so contagious that I couldn’t help but smile back.
                  “That sounds fun actually,” I answered sincerely. I wondered if we knew any of the same people or if it would be a totally new crowd. Maybe some of the same people from the bar last night? Then again, I didn’t see him hanging around a particular group of people. Once we spotted each other, he didn’t seem to talk to anyone else.
                  “Look over by these rocks,” he said, leading me over to a rougher part of the shoreline. We stepped over some large rocks that were partially in the water. He pointed to a small clearing in the sand. There were weird indentations in the tide. “This is the best place to see the turtles hatching,” he explained, exploring around by the rocks. “See these patterns in the sand here?” he pointed. “This is the spot. Usually this is the best time of night for it. See all those eggs there?”
                  “How on earth do you know this exists?” I said excitedly.
                  “I’ve been coming here for years, ever since I was a kid. I don’t live too far from here,” he said innocently. “I stumbled upon this spot once, just walking around after dark. Once you see it, you’ll be hooked. Then again, you’ve probably seen it before, given your profession.”
                  “Never,” I replied, feeling giddy over the possibility of it. I’d seen documentaries about it, sure. But never the real thing.
                  “You might be mad at me for this, but I think it’s a false alarm. I don’t see any movement,” he confessed, gently moving some of the rocks around. “I’m guessing it won’t happen until tomorrow night.”
                  “Can we come back?” I said eagerly. “Please? I have to see it. Please?”
                  “Yes, I’ll go out with you again. Geez, you’re so persistent,” he teased.
                  “This is for the turtles,” I clarified humorously.
                  “Right,” he said with a fake disbelieving tone.
                  “I have to work until seven tomorrow night. Don’t you have cards or something?” I asked, remembering Antonio’s comment earlier. “Pinochle? Bridge?” 
                  “It’s poker, but I can be