Turning to Stone (Heart of Stone: Book 2)

Chapter 12: Workaholic

"Teddy." Helen clasped his wrist and pulled him backwards, sliding in front of him to address the receptionist. "We really are so sorry. When he gets an idea in his head..."

Springing to life now that she was faced with a regular human, the girl tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and sat up straighter.

"It's honestly no problem at all. The kids have been so disheartened with the recent news, and this will really perk them up."

"The last thing we want to do is cause a distraction. If our presence here begins to disrupt things, please just let me know and we'll leave immediately."

The girl bobbed her head up and down, and the large silver hoops in each ear bounced emphatically.

"Yeah. Sure."

But the starstruck glint in her eyes when she peered across at Ed again suggested she had absolutely no intention of asking us to leave.

*

Despite our promises, we all knew there was no way that a famous pop star could walk into a room of kids and not cause a huge commotion. There were squeals and tears in equal measure. As Helen and I stood off to the corner, Ed engaged with the students, the charisma and natural ease oozing out of him with every conversation, smile, and hug.

Talking to teenagers and adults was one thing, but kids were an entirely different species at times. Some people had that gift where children instantly loved them and vice versa. I didn't. They terrified me. Their excitable and fearless vibe just didn't gel with my anxiety-ridden, cautious approach to life.

Yet as we moved from room to room and I watched Ed connect with each child, my heart beat a little faster, spreading warmth around my body. Even his acting skills had their limits. There was nothing fake about the way he helped tune one boy's guitar or offered a high-five to a girl who nailed a pitching exercise. When a couple of other students struggled to execute the teacher's breathing techniques, Ed coached them separately for ten minutes, rephrasing the instructions and suggesting different approaches until it eventually stuck.

I'd met Ed at the height of his career—a finished product who topped charts, wowed crowds, and crushed live performances. How long had it taken him to get there, though? Had he faced these same challenges during his own classes?

It was hard to imagine him struggling with something music-related, but natural talent only got you so far. Perhaps that explained his apparent flair for teaching: he could relate to these children and offer a closer perspective.

He'd been just as keen as Zola and me to come here. While we might have been partially motivated by a publicity opportunity, though, Ed's intentions seemed purer. The joy on his face was not a mask, but genuine happiness, those endearing dimples a permanent feature that tugged harder and harder at my heart with every smile.

A thick lump formed in my throat as I shrugged off my coat, suddenly feeling faint from the heat. When I turned to Helen to explain that I needed some fresh air, I found her watching me with guarded eyes and lips pressed tightly together. She said nothing, but I felt like I'd been caught red-handed, her scrutiny of me interrupting a moment that had felt increasingly personal.

"I'm going to pop outside quickly to type up some notes," I said, swiftly changing my excuse. "Don't want to get my phone out in here—it'll look rude."

She nodded and switched her attention back to Ed. If she had an opinion to express, I'd apparently have to wait to hear it.

I slipped out of a side door and perched on the end of a picnic bench, going along with my excuse by pulling out my phone to jot down some notes. Although I started off doing just that, at some point my bullet points evolved into sentences, and my piece soon wrote itself, as if my brain desperately needed to transform its thoughts into physical words so as to release them from consuming my mind.