“No. It’s not my business,” I answer tightly. I’m not like most women, and I wish he would shut up. It’s a relief when we pull up in front of my building, and I glimpse my chance to escape for a few minutes.

“This is me,” I say, pointing at the block of attractive brown apartments rising above us. He regards me for a second and then gestures I should go; I almost exhale with thanks.

“I’ll wait here. Go get changed. Something feminine and soft. Something you ...