Heart of Stone

Chapter Thirty-One: Karma's a Bitch

Despite thinking that catching Becca in the morning would help any potential confrontation by stopping fatigue from weighing in, I only slept for a few hours and woke up even more exhausted than before.

I checked my phone. Nothing from Ed.

For fuck's sake. It had been less than a day and I was already turning into a clingy girlfriend.

I scooped an extra spoon of coffee into my mug and waited for the kettle to boil.

"Didn't hear you get in last night."

Becca's voice startled me, and I spun around to see her leaning in the kitchen doorway. Although her arms were folded, she didn't seem too hostile.

"Uh, yeah," I said. "I saw the lights were out, so I was quiet."

"How was your trip?"

"It was good," I said, leaving it there. What else did she want me to say?

Sighing, Becca unfolded her arms and straightened up. "I'm sorry I lied to you, Soph. I was just so afraid of history repeating itself. I'd loved Teddy for years, and that night was my one shot with him. A shot that was ruined because he wanted you instead. And you didn't even know him. You didn't even care about him."

The kettle boiled, and I seized the opportunity to pour my coffee while I considered my response, watching the bubbling dark liquid rise towards the rim of my mug.

"I get it," I said eventually, turning around to face her with my hands cupping my drink. "But that's why he was interested. I was something new to him. A convenient option."

"I'm guessing you stopped being the convenient option at one point, though, right? I mean, it was pretty obvious that you were getting cold feet about the articles."

I lifted one shoulder to shrug and kept my mouth shut. What would it achieve, apart from hurting Becca even more?

"Come on, Soph." Her voice shook as she took a tentative step towards me. "Be real with me."

"Don't tell me to be real with you when this whole thing was based on lies."

Becca recoiled, her bright eyes widening. "What the hell, Soph?"

"You thought you knew him. But you didn't. You don't. Nobody knows him apart from the people who spend every day with him. It's easy to portray a celebrity as a hero, and it's just as easy to paint them as a villain. I don't want any part of it. Not anymore."

Satisfied I'd said my piece, I squeezed past her to leave the kitchen, but she caught my arm, coral-painted fingertips clutching onto me.

"Are we seriously going to let a boy ruin our friendship? I forgave you both times you screwed me over. But you won't forgive me for one mistake?"

They say certain scents can trigger a thousand memories, and as Becca's familiar Givenchy perfume drifted across the short space between us, I remembered the day on the Tube when she'd protected me from the rowdy passengers. I remembered her holding my hand as I sat in my therapy sessions. I remembered the night I'd caught her researching OCD so she could understand my struggles better, and how that had turned into a genuine passion to volunteer her support to charities.