Roadside Attractions

Two

TORONTO, ON

I’ve been pacing my apartment so relentlessly for the past hour that by eight a.m., I’m confident I’ve already hit my step count goal for the day.

Noor slept over, staying with me while I called my bank’s twenty-four-hour hotline to cancel my credit card. According to my statement, Roman hadn’t actually had a chance to use the thing yet. Thank God. But that doesn’t mean the situation has been resolved.

I’d tried to call him last night, leaving a string of colourful, angry voicemails, adding to the slew he received from me days ago. Prior to last night’s revelation, I’d felt mildly embarrassed about the messages. Now I’m less girl, and more vessel for the rage of a thousand suns.

Because dumping me and dipping out on a rental agreement well before its expiration is bad enough, but having the audacity to actually go into my wallet and steal from me is a whole different ball game .

Noor stirs from her place on my plush velvet couch, squinting at the bright light streaming into the living room. She’s donning a pair of sweatpants I let her borrow and an old Bon Iver t-shirt I found in the back of the closet. It used to be Roman’s, but I wore it so often that it quickly became mine. I’m surprised he didn’t take that one too.

“What’s going on?” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes and smearing some of her leftover eyeliner. Her gaze settles on me, and she blinks when she registers my appearance. I’m already dressed in my typical pair of light pants and a sleeveless t-shirt, my hair flat ironed, and my makeup done. “How long have you been awake?”

“I don’t think I slept,” I say, resuming my pacing. Noor gets up from the couch to follow me down the hallway. “I can’t believe him. After everything, he’s resorting to theft? If I ever see him again, it will take the self-restraint of a literal saint to stop myself from tackling him to the ground and putting him in a headlock.” I could definitely take him too. Roman is built like the sad, boyishly handsome love interest in an early 2000s indie movie, all gangly, curly-haired, and self-righteous.

I turn into my bedroom and head for the closet. All night, my mind was stuck in a never-ending loop of nasty thoughts about Roman, and now I’m so riled up that I feel like a vengeful spirit has taken over my body.

“We’ll tag-team him,” Noor agrees, voice raspy with sleep as she perches on the edge of my bed.

“I can’t stay here.” I pull out my wheeled Herschel suitcase, drop it on the mattress beside her, and grab clothes from the racks, haphazardly folding them and tucking them inside.

“Uh, what do you mean?”

“I think I’m going to go,” I announce. “With Wyatt.”

Her brown eyes bug out. “You’re doing what with who ?”

I throw my hands up in defeat. “It beats the alternative! I have all of this pent-up anger, and I can’t just sit here in our apartment, ruminating in it while Roman gets away scot-free. I have two whole weeks off work—what am I going to do with all that time? At least Wyatt is doing something about this. ”

Noor scrambles to her feet and grabs my arms to hold me in place. “I love you, but there are so many things wrong with this plan. Did you even ask Wyatt if you can actually come? Who knows if you’ll even find Roman? And if you do, what then?”

“I haven’t thought that far yet,” I say stubbornly, crossing my arms. “But it will probably involve a lot of yelling.”

With a sigh, Noor lets me go. “Babe, we talked about this. Let’s go to smash therapy instead and release some of that anger. He doesn’t get to have any more of you, or your time.”

“But what if this is what he deserves?” I press, resuming my packing.

“That’s what karma is for,” she remarks. “Let the universe take care of him.”

“What a coincidence, karma is my middle name.”

“Your middle name is most certainly Jane.”

“Minor details.” I wave a hand dismissively, heading for my dresser.

“Stella,” Noor protests, latching onto my arm again, “I’m three seconds away from taking you to the emergency room because this is not normal. You never go on a trip without having every single breath planned months in advance. Not to mention, the Stella I know would never voluntarily jump into a car with Wyatt Song .”

“The Stella you know spent four years with a man who apparently didn’t give a shit throughout the entire relationship,” I point out, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t give her too much credit. I know I’m severely sleep-deprived and this idea is totally ridiculous. But I want to do this. I have to. How else am I going to spend this time off?”

Noor grimaces, putting her hands on her hips. A thick silence settles between us, and I wait for her to continue challenging me. But she doesn’t. “You’re sure you don’t want to stay and smash some plates instead of stalking the mediocre white man who wronged you?”

My mouth cracks into a smile. “Positive.”

She heaves out a sigh, shaking her head. “Straight people.”

?

I’m a ball of agitation as I sit in the backseat of an Uber, fingers toying with my pendant necklace, the one Roman gave me for our first anniversary.

I hate that I’m wearing it; that part of him is still with me. I should’ve purged all signs of him from the apartment the second I realized he was gone, but it’s a force of habit. My fingers always seem to fly to the familiar piece of jewellery when I’m deep in thought or incredibly anxious.

My pulse thrums under my skin, and a large part of me wants to tell the driver to stop and turn around, because out of all the ideas I’ve had in my twenty-six years, this one is by far the most bizarre. We’re only a few streets away from Wyatt’s place now, and another wave of insecurity hits me. I didn’t confirm if I could tag along. He may have already left.

But there’s only one way to find out.

The Uber slows to a stop outside the familiar character home on Campsie Street. Up until a year and a half ago, this was where Roman lived too. It’s split into two units, and Wyatt now occupies the main floor with one of his other friends. I swallow, debating whether or not to tell the driver to wait around, just in case Wyatt isn’t home or kicks me to the curb. The latter is a likely possibility.

Instead, I just thank him, grabbing my suitcase and dragging it up the stairs behind me, listening to the wheels thump against the uneven ground. The covered porch provides some shelter from the mid-morning sun. Squaring my shoulders, I ring the doorbell. Then I wait, listening to the Uber take off behind me. No turning back now, I suppose. But at the sound of footsteps approaching the entrance, I briefly consider diving into the bushes next to the house. What the actual fuck am I thinking?

The door swings open before I can flee the scene, revealing Wyatt himself. I flinch and stumble backward a little. I’m immediately hit with the scent of aftershave and his spicy cologne, combating the weed smell that always floats down from the upstairs neighbours. He’s donning a vintage t-shirt from Petey’s Pizzeria down the street, shorts, and a ball cap, looking like he was seconds away from leaving the house before I interrupted him.

At the sight of me, he opens his mouth, then closes it again, cocking his head. When he speaks, his voice is suspicious. “Moore. Can’t say I expected to find you on my doorstep. Why are you on my doorstep?”

I steel myself, tightening my grip on my purse strap, before blurting, “I’m coming with you.”

He ducks his head, turning his ear in my direction as if to hear me better. “Pardon me?”

“I’m coming with you,” I repeat, despite knowing full well he heard me the first time. “To find Roman.”

Wyatt stares at me another moment, waiting for me to crack. Then his eyes dart to my suitcase propped up next to me, and he barks out a laugh. “You’re not serious. Moore, I was joking last night when I asked you to come. I thought that was clear.”

A blaze of heat engulfs my cheeks. Jesus Christ . I must look like a complete idiot. “Well, there’s a grain of truth in every joke,” I push, trying to maintain one tiny shred of dignity. “There’s obviously a part of you that wanted me to come along.”

He scoffs, dark eyes sparking. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Believe it or not, spending countless hours with you is not my idea of a good time.”

“It’s not mine either. Stabbing myself in the eye with a fork would be more enjoyable.”

“Good,” he replies, flashing me a smile. “We’re on the same page. Consider yourself officially uninvited.”

Wyatt moves to shut the door in my face, but I manage to catch it at the last second, wedging it open again. It’ll take a hell of a lot more than that to get me to go away. The humidity is thick in the air, and sweat forms on my forehead. All I want is some air conditioning, but I refuse to back down. If it takes annoying the shit out of him to get him to let me come along, I’ll gladly do it.

Finally, he sighs, stepping back and allowing me to force the door open the rest of the way. “You’re not very good at reading the room, are you? ”

“Do you think I’d even be standing here if I felt like I had any other options?” I ask. Wyatt’s eyebrows pull together. “He stole from me too. Snatched my credit card right out of my wallet. The way I see it, I can either stay here, hating his guts and feeling sorry for myself, or I can come with you and get some goddamn closure.”

“Option one sounds like more of a Stella thing to do,” he counters. “You should pick that one.”

Irritation needles me. “Do you really want to do this by yourself?”

He pauses, considering my words. “If it’s between you coming along and me going by myself, absolutely I do.”

I close my eyes, wishing I could wipe the smug look from his face. “I’m literally Roman’s jilted lover. If anyone deserves to get revenge, it’s me.”

Wyatt grimaces and drags a hand over his face. “ Moore ,” he groans. “Why are you doing this to me?” Then, under his breath, “I should’ve kept my mouth shut last night.”

“Really, this is your fault. I wouldn’t have even found out about this if you’d just left me alone.”

He gives me a squinty smile. “Lesson learned. I will never tell you anything again.” He leans against the doorframe, sticking his hands into his pockets. “Don’t you have some fancy, important job you need to stay in town for?”

“Thanks to Roman, I scheduled a two-week vacation before he took off, and I officially need a new way to spend it.”

He watches me for another moment. “How do I know you’re not coming on this trip so you can get back together with him?”

I hold back a scoff. “Because that is quite literally the last thing I want to do.”

“You sure about that?” he quips, cocking an eyebrow.

For a moment, I see a flash of the good memories in my mind; Roman weaving me into the words in his journals. Slow weekend mornings sipping coffee, our fingers intertwined across the table. Evenings cuddled up on the couch. Days ago, I would’ve done anything to get him back, but those feelings quickly faded when I registered just how much he blindsided me by leaving. And now, knowing he stole from me has put the final nail in his coffin. My expression grows stony. “Of course I’m sure.”

Wyatt’s gaze drifts downward, to where my fingers have latched onto the pendant on my chest again. “Then why are you still wearing that necklace?”

Heat rises to my cheeks once more. “That’s not important,” I say, dropping my hand quickly. “It’s just a piece of jewellery.”

We wind up in another staring contest that I win—again—before Wyatt casts his eyes upward, as if saying a silent prayer. He lets out another weary sigh, gesturing to my suitcase. “I’d tell you to pack your bags, but it looks like you’ve already handled that too.”

My mouth spreads into a wide smile, a rush of giddiness flooding my chest. I attempt to smother it, regaining my composure and nodding resolutely. “I’m ready when you are.”

Wyatt casts me a look of doubt, then mutters, “ Please don’t make me regret this.”