Well, unless you were a Major League freak of nature who barely wheezed while the blonde beside him struggled to stand. Not that I was wheezing. Or had sweat dripping down my cheek (I think they had the heat on.). Just hypothetically speaking. We left the hotel through the stairwell door, coming out in a back parking lot. Chase grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the street. I gave one last glance back at the building, then followed. I had told my Dad goodnight, in those minutes before we left. Same as I did every night, his voice tired and sleepy, the light under his door already out. He wouldn’t know about this, couldn’t, but I still worried, my phone tucked into my back pocket. “What if someone recognizes you?” I hissed. They would. His face was too beautiful not to notice, too famous to forget. “We’re not going anywhere that I’ll be seen.” And, thirty minutes later, he was right.
