Never, I want to say because this crappy apartment doesn’t feel like home, but I say nothing as I fling open the door and slip into the humid night air. Fingers of heat crawl across my skin as I jog-walk down the hall.
“Come back here,” her voice pursues me. “I’m not done talking to you…”
I pick up the pace, round the corner, and descend the metal stairs. When I reach the bottom, I pull out my phone: “You busy tonight?”