“I try to,” Yaya said.

She looked over the room, its flatscreen TV wider than her bed, its couch and pleather chairs plumper than her loveseat. Bryant seemed to do well, and much as she wanted to criticize, the room looked nice. At least he’d decorated his walls beyond fridge magnets and stolen stickers.

His refrigerator was bare, not even a whiteboard. One flaw, at least.

“I know you said this is just an out-of-bed date,” he said, calling from another room. “But I have to ask. That thing you said before, sex gods. What’s that about? You in a cult or something, promised to the grand vizier or whatnot?”

The question should have rankled. He deserved sarcasm, nothing more, but Yaya didn’t feel like being annoyed right now.

Stop fighting, Magenta hummed.

“I started saying it after hearing about old polytheistic religions in school,”

Yaya said. “I knew girls in Wicca, but that wasn’t for me, and then I couldn’t remember the gods’ names or pick one god gang over the others—”

Bryant appeared from around the corner, holding a dull green wine bottle.

“It’s called a pantheon,” he cut in.

Yaya didn’t pause. “—so I started praying to the sex gods to bring me a girlfriend, or at least take my virginity. Took me a while to learn virginity is a bullshit concept, and then longer to lose it. But they’ve been good to me, so I thank them.”

Bryant didn’t seem to be listening. “A girlfriend, huh?” He slipped out of his reverie and set the wine bottle on the island. “Actually, some sex gods were mistaken fertility gods. You can take off your coat.”

“I don’t remember any names, so it doesn’t matter.” Yaya shed her borrowed coat and tossed it toward the couch, but the room was too wide and it flopped on the floor. She went to fetch it.

“Didn’t say it mattered. I was segueing into asking why you were at the clinic yesterday.” Bryant opened a cabinet and pulled down wine glasses and plates. “I know, a real icebreaker. Honest curiosity.”

“Honestly not anyone’s business since we aren’t sleeping together.” Yaya returned to the kitchen and peered at the wine bottle as if she’d know on sight whether or not it was good. “Routine exam. Not giving birth to alien babies.

How about you?”

Bryant set everything on the counter and grinned. “Just making sure the boys can swim.”

Swim, Magenta repeated.

Bryant excused himself to the restroom, and Yaya noted the directions so

she wouldn’t have to ask later. His house was nice, she hadn’t changed her mind about that.

It also felt off. She might have lived in an apartment for so long that to step inside a larger home gave her vertigo, but following him wasn’t like her.

Magenta had to be the cause. Yaya couldn’t see a reason to stay here. His excuse for visiting the fertility clinic sounded canned, a line he’d prepared had he traveled past flirting and into genuine conversation.