If This Gets Out(58)

“We’ll come,” Zach says, giving me a meaningful look. “We can all say hi together.”

“No offense, Zachy, but I don’t need a third wheel.” Angel pinches Jon’s cheek, then mine. “Or a fourth. Or a fifth. I’ll be back in a minute, get a drink, have some fun, for god’s sake. It’s not like we get many fucking opportunities.”

Before we can protest further, Angel steers Lina past us and out the door.

The three of us stand in a group, uncertainly, staring after him. I steal a glance at Zach. He’s biting his lower lip so hard it’s disappeared.

“They aren’t going onto the roof, are they?” I ask.

Zach shakes his head slowly. Jon looks confused, then comprehension dawns. “Oh, no.”

By the time we burst into the hallway, Angel and Lina are nowhere to be seen.

“Let’s get Keegan and Pauline,” Jon says.

Zach looks over his shoulder, alarmed. “But he’ll get in so much shit!”

“Um, not as bad as they will if they get into an accident because they’re high off their faces.”

They turn to look at me as one. Oh. I guess it’s my call. “Come on,” I say, already moving. “If we can catch them now, no one has to know. We’ll call the team if we need to.”

It takes us longer than it should to find the fire escape in our panic. Which, to me, seems like the sort of thing they should account for when providing directions to an emergency escape door, but I digress. We could try the elevator, but we’ll only lose time trying to figure out where the fire escape opens into. Not to mention if we take the elevator we’ll have to pass the throngs of fans gathered by the main entrance, as well as our Berlin guards stationed in the lobby.

“Should we check the roof first?” Jon asks as we file in. We pause. It probably does make sense to check there first before we go running into the night. But if we go all the way up, we’ll lose any hope of finding Angel if he has left the hotel.

“No time,” I say. “Zach, spam his phone. See if you can get him to pick up. If he is on the roof, he won’t ignore you for long.”

We take the stairs at a run, which isn’t an easy feat, given we started at level forty-one. Thank god for our oppressive workout schedule.

Zach peeks out the door at the bottom to check where we are before we tumble out. Luckily, the door emerges into a parking lot. Enclosed enough we won’t be spotted by the crowd camping out in front of the hotel, but open enough we can already spot a way to get onto the street.

The air rakes at our faces with icy fingers, and the wind blows with enough force to snatch words away, carrying frigid raindrops that slam into every bit of exposed skin. I’m wearing a crew-neck cashmere sweater—fine for a hotel party, less fine for these sorts of conditions. I wish to hell I’d had time to grab a coat. We run along the paved concrete, close to the row of towering masonry buildings, and my heart skips a beat every time a car passes. Will someone recognize us? Then what?

“Angel!” Zach calls, looking desperately around the streets. The only people nearby are an older couple huddled under an umbrella, and they don’t even glance back at us.

“Don’t call his name,” I whisper. With the amount of fans camped out at the hotel, being overheard is more of a when than an if. And Angel isn’t exactly a subtle name.

Zach nods and slows us to a stop, then turns in a circle. “Reece!” he shouts to the sky instead. “REECE!”

“It’s still attracting too much attention,” Jon murmurs.

Zach looks back down and scowls. “How am I supposed to attract Angel’s attention without attracting attention?”

We start walking again, and Jon shakes his head. “I’m calling Keegan,” he says.

“Wait,” Zach says. “Please, Jon. Can’t we just—”

“They could get hurt, Zach!”

“Just let me try his phone one more time?”

We round a corner and turn onto a busy main street. The relative anonymity of the previous alley is lost as the orange glow of streetlights and headlights washes over us. I scan our surroundings, taking in the rows of uniform trees, bustling outdoor dining spots, and ancient stone buildings decorated with towering cream columns. Then I grab Zach’s shoulder excitedly. Separating two multi-laned roads is a wide pedestrian strip lined with park benches and shrubs, and walking down the middle of that strip are Angel and Lina.

We break into a jog again. They have their backs to us, so they don’t hear us approach until we’re upon them. When he finally does notice us, Angel doesn’t exactly look pleased for the company.

“Can’t I have five minutes to myself?” he snaps, ripping his hand away from Lina’s. She gives him a wounded look as he raises his voice further. “Not even five minutes?”

We slow to a stop, and he takes a few steps back. His eyes are wild and unfocused, and he’s breathing heavily. Jon was right. We shouldn’t technically be out here alone for a variety of reasons, but Angel, in particular, should not be out right now.

A prickling on my peripheries tells me there are already curious eyes fixed on us. I ignore them for now. Time’s slowed down, measurable by tasks on my to-do list. Task one: try to calm Angel down. “You invited everyone over to your room,” I remind him in a measured voice. “Everyone’s missing you.”