Heart of Stone

Chapter Twenty-Four: Business Before Pleasure

Mental health is not black and white. A famous popstar once told me that. My anxiety is triggered by certain situations, but the sadness sneaks up without warning. Sometimes it lingers. Sometimes it fades away.

Just because it fades away doesn't mean it was never real in the first place. And just because it lingers doesn't mean it will never go away.

I woke up in my Madrid hotel room with a clearer head but sore eyes. For the first time, I wondered if my past mistakes with Becca had caused more damage than she'd let on. Was our friendship still as real as I believed, or was it fading away? Why would she put me through this?

And an even more dangerous thought occurred: had she lied about Teddy?

I was too far into this to ask Teddy. It would seem suspiciously strange if I suddenly brought up that night with Becca when I'd insisted that we'd all moved past it. But the more time I spent with him, the more I struggled to believe he'd have pulled a move like that. My head had already fucked me over once today, though. For all I knew, this was just my conscience trying to convince me that I had no reason to feel guilty about liking him.

When my stomach rumbled, I sent Teddy a text. I couldn't bear the thought of going outside again and so suggested we order room service.

Darkness drowned the city, its buildings illuminated to paint a picturesque scene from my balcony. I pulled on a hoodie and sat down at the wrought iron bistro table, my eyes following the red and white lights of traffic hurtling along the roads below. Continental cities sounded different somehow. The pitch and pattern of sirens, the thrumming of mopeds, and the chatter of citizens.

I was so entranced in the Spanish atmosphere that I almost missed Teddy's knocks.

"I've been standing there for ages," he said as I let him in. "Was starting to worry."

"Sorry. I was on the balcony. Didn't hear you."

"How you feeling?" he asked, following me through the French doors, then dropping into the opposite chair.

"Better. Thanks."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay, cool." Teddy stretched his legs under the table and tilted his gaze towards the view. "There's something about European cities, isn't there? London is amazing, but this feels different. Not in a good or bad way. Just different. Why are you laughing? Do I sound lame?"

"No." I tossed him a genuine smile. "Not at all. I was actually thinking the same thing just before you knocked. That's why I was laughing."

"Great minds think alike, Soph." Teddy winked, but it lacked the usual flirtatious vibe.

We sat quietly, enjoying the view. The intensity of spending every day with someone created an easy companionship over time. Only a few feet of table separated us, yet we didn't feel the need to fill the space with conversation. I was thankful for that. Although I wanted the company, I didn't want the pressure of talking about my earlier reaction to the crowd.