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that I was hoping we’d spend more time together. That surprised me. After my last experience with a guy you’d think I’d be steering clear. I’d known I was physically attracted to him, but now it was more.
    Over the course of our short dinner I’d grown comfortable with him, curious about him, and I wanted to know more.
    “Ellie?” Mason’s voice brought me out of my thoughts.
    “Sorry, what?”
    “Do you wanna grab another drink and go sit down by the beach?”
    “Sure. Let me help you take the plates in first.”
    “You don’t have to do that.”
    “You made an amazing dinner. It’s the least I can do.”
    I grabbed his plate and stacked it on top of my own. He carried the platter and the empty beer bottles and we made our way into the house.
    “Set them on the counter and I’ll get to them all later.”
    “I can throw them in the dishwasher if you want,” I said.
    “Ellie, I didn’t ask you over here so you could load my dishwasher.” He grinned.
    Was it wrong I hoped there was some innuendo in his statement and that he planned on following up on it later? It was only our first date after all.
    He grabbed a couple more beers from the fridge, passed one to me and then led me from the kitchen. His large hand gripped mine as we made our way out onto the deck. I got a thrill from the physical contact. You know the way your stomach starts to feel a little funny and how try as you might you can’t help the grin that keeps trying to creep onto your face? That was me.
    My heels clicked across the deck as we made our way to the stairs leading down to the beach. It was fully dark out by now but the deck had built-in lights casting a glow several feet onto the beach.
    We reached the bottom stair and Mason sat down on it. I removed my heels, placed them on the top stair, and stepped down into the sand. The soft crystals felt good; warm on the top and cool underneath. I seated myself beside Mason.
    The stairway wasn’t that wide and our hips touched. I could feel the heat from his body, and I longed to feel more of it but quickly checked my thoughts.
    We sat in silence for a few minutes. Normally I’d be looking to fill the awkward stretch of silence that was inevitable after all the bullshit small talk was out of the way. For some reason sitting there quietly with Mason felt comfortable, like we’d done it a thousand times before and would do it a thousand times more.
    I finally spoke up. Not out of discomfort but because I really did want to know more about him.
    “Do you have any siblings?” I asked.
    “Two. Both much younger. Justin and Olivia.”
    “Your parents sure waited a long time between having you and them.”
    “Same mother, different father. My dad took off when I was still a baby. Their father only stuck around for a couple years after they were born so it’s really just been us and our mom.”
    “I’m sorry. About your father, I mean.” What an idiot. Why had I assumed his parents were still together?
    “It’s no biggie. All I’ve ever known. What about you? You have any brothers or sisters?”
    “No. I’m an only child. I didn’t know my dad growing up, either.” I don’t know why I’d thought it necessary to throw that out there. Maybe to let him know he didn’t need to feel ashamed he didn’t know his father? Sometimes the fact that your father hadn’t stuck around seemed like a reflection of you, even though logically you knew it wasn’t.
    He didn’t say anything, angling himself to look me in the eyes. His look said he understood what it meant to have a piece of yourself floating around out there, without any means to find it, or understanding why it wouldn’t want to find you.
    It didn’t bother me anymore. Growing up, whenever I’d ask my mom about my father she’d shut down and wouldn’t tell me a damn thing. I could tell it upset her when I asked and eventually I figured out she was never going to tell me anything and stopped asking. I’m sure that sounds