I watch the blonde woman as she climbs out of the black SUV she’s just parked across the street from me and slams the door shut behind her.

Her long legs step out from behind the bonnet, and I tip my glasses down so I can check I’m not seeing things.

She looks like she belongs on a run way back where I’ve come from, not here in this small town I’ve escaped to.

She’s carrying a set of keys that jingle against one another as she looks both ways up and down the street before jogging across to my side.

She smiles at a man that passes by, and his face breaks out into a smile too.

I watch him walk down the path, towards me, in the opposite direction that the blonde woman has gone. He turns and looks back at her over his shoulder – no doubt checking out her ass – and I can’t even blame him; it’s one hell of an ass.

She’s got tiny black denim shorts on that hug everything and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.

I push my glasses back up my nose and get to my feet. I don’t know what I think I’m going to do, but I do know one thing – I’m not done looking at her.

I’ve only got one bag with me, and I’m aware I probably look like a homeless dude, out here with a beard, scraggy hair, a cap always on my head and glasses on my face, dragging around a large, leather duffel bag, but it’s how I feel most normal… like maybe I might just be able to blend in for once.

No one is looking for me here: in fact, most people don’t give me more than a second glance.

No one knows I’m Beckett Thorn – movie star who rose from mid-range actor to world famous heart throb in the blink of an eye.

No one here cares what I’m wearing or who I’m dating.

No one is going to know if I follow a beautiful blonde woman down the street.

No one is even going to know if I talked to her.

That’s exactly what I find myself doing. I’m following her down the street with the intention of doing more than simply laying eyes on her.

More people walk towards me with smiles on their faces, and I’d bet my entire fortune on the fact they caught those smiles from her.

She steps inside a small sandwich shop and disappears from sight. I stop dead in my tracks.

The minute I can’t see her anymore, I’m served with a harsh dose of reality.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

I can’t follow her in there and talk to her.

No one might know that I’m Beckett Thorn, but the reality is, I am.

I can’t hit on a pretty girl the way everyone else can – certainly not if I want to keep flying under the radar here, which I desperately do.

I glance in the front window – she’s at the front counter ordering something and holy shit, she’s even more stunning up close.

I’d give anything to talk to her right now – to see if she could make me smile the way she has everyone else, because I bet she could.

But that’s not going to happen.

If I introduce myself to her then pretty soon this whole town will know I’m here.

This shit is the very reason I ran.

I’m not even me anymore. I’m just a product of the machine – a hot commodity – a photo for the front of a magazine or click bait on a digital tabloid.

I sigh and toss my bag back over my shoulder as I stroll off down the street.

I don’t know where I’m heading or where I’ll end up, but I’m confident of one thing – it’s not into that sandwich shop to talk to the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in a long time.