“It’ll be quite the fight. If I get the job, it won’t be the best time to be pregnant.”

“Oh, yeah.” Mona’s expression falls. “You have a lot to think about.”

“I’m hoping this time off here at home will help me figure out what I want, what’s right for me.”

“Well, while you figure it out,” Mona says, tipping her head toward the window overlooking the backyard, “there’s a fine biker dude who might take you on.”

“I don’t know about a summer fling. My life’s too complicated right now for anyone to get the wrong idea about what I’m expecting.”

“Maybe just a few dates.”

“Nah. I don’t really like to date. I just like to fuck.”

Mona’s eyes widen looking over my shoulder, and then squint as she laughs. “Oh my God! If you could see your face, Ezra.”

I swing around and Ezra’s standing at the door holding an empty tray. He doesn’t look at me but walks past us to place the tray in the sink.

“Just like old times,” he says. “Me walking in on some conversation I wish I could un-hear.”

I wish I could un-say that last comment.

“Where’s Noah?” I ask, changing the subject quickly.

“Beating another victim at chess.” He doesn’t look at me as he continues loading the dishwasher.

Is he judging me? I shouldn’t feel self-conscious about what I said. It’s the truth. I do prefer just fucking. I don’t like strings, to be tied to someone emotionally or socially simply because we had sex. By and large, sex has been physical with very few side effects on my heart. I’m fine with that, and Ezra doesn’t get to judge me for it.

The silence that settles between us doesn’t have the chance to grow awkward because laughter and shouts reach us through the window. I peer out to the backyard. Overhead lights strung in trees lend the scene a warm glow. Two lines form, people facing each other, and Marvin Gaye’s “Got to Give It Up” drifts into the kitchen, the dance standard that no cookout is complete without.

“Oh, it’s on!” Mona says, hips already swaying, fingers already snapping, arms already in the air. “Soul Train line! Come on.”

“You guys go on ahead,” Ezra says, giving Mona an indulgent smile. “I’ll finish up in here.”

“You sure?” I ask, meeting his eyes for the first time since my awkward comment. “I can help.”

“Nah.” He extends his smile to me, though it’s less natural. “You know I never met a dance floor I liked, even if it is grass.”