Heart of Stone

Chapter Nine: Writer's Block

Music from upstairs thumped loud enough to rattle the thin walls of our flat. The blank page in front of me remained motionless, though, no words flowing from my fingers to the screen.

Dinner with Teddy last night had been fun—much easier than I'd expected. Amusing snippets of conversation kept replaying themselves in my mind, the vibe teetering on the edge of flirtatious without venturing too far into the realms of romantic.

With that and the music, my latest blog post refused to write itself. Inspiration wouldn't come to me, the distractions too great. Justifying a break, I set about making myself a drink, working almost on autopilot until I dropped the tea bag into the bin and noticed the concert tickets sat on top of the rubbish pile.

For weeks, Becca had treasured those tickets, storing them away and checking on them every day in case someone had broken in to steal them. And I thought I was the one with the fear of burglars. Those tickets had been precious to Becca for so long, and in the space of one night, they'd gone from priceless treasure to heart-breaking reminder.

I sat back down at my desk, nursing my drink. I needed to stay on track. Last night had gone well, and that would only work in my favour. Teddy had given me access to his suite, and I couldn't concentrate in these conditions, so why not further our cause and take him up on that offer?

The thought settled in the back of my mind as I waited for my tea to cool, but I soon found myself checking all the windows were shut and all the taps turned off.

In any other circumstances, catching the Tube across London to let myself into the private suite of a global popstar who I'd only met a handful of times would be ridiculous. But these weren't normal circumstances. My friend was hurting, and I had the opportunity to ease that hurt.

*

Even though I'd given Teddy the heads up, and he'd said I'd have the place to myself, I still knocked on the suite door. It didn't seem right to let myself in. After thirty seconds or so, I pressed my finger to the pad, and the door clicked, opening when I tried the handle.

As soon as I saw that bird's-eye view of London, I remembered a similar scenario a few years back, when Mike and I had stood at the top of the Empire State Building. New York looked so huge beneath our feet, an overwhelming city reminding us that we were two small tourists among millions of natives.

Back on the ground, strangers approached us on a couple of occasions due to Mike's apparent resemblance to Jason Derulo. I personally didn't see it, but then I'd grown so familiar with every beautiful inch of his face and body that I only ever saw him as the unique man I'd fallen madly in love with. 

I thought Mike would propose on that trip—why else would he surprise me with a holiday? However, it turned out to be less of a romantic gesture and more of an opportunity to meet up with some university friends who'd been travelling. I hid my disappointment. Mike could have gone without me, especially with it being so last minute, and at least he'd paid my fare, so it didn't feel like I was being scammed out of a holiday.