Page 109 of To Go
I sit on my couch, staring at the blue wall. When I moved in, it was the one spot of colour in here. I look around and take in my space. There’s the yellow throw blanket I got when she kept using mine on the couch. Pink, strawberry scented candles that reminded me of her sit on the coffee table, half-melted. Stella’s thick, rainbow fuzzy socks are tucked away in my drawer, ready for when she insists my apartment is in Antarctica.
All of the little pieces of colour that she brought back into my life.
I’m losing my mind when a call pops up on my phone. I answer it without even glancing at the name.
“Stella?” I ask, out of breath from all the pacing.
“No, dude, it’s Beck. Don’t you have caller ID?” I can hear his laughter through the phone and I’m not in the mood for it.
“Beck,” I say, using that tone that makes bouncers shit their pants.
“Sorry, yup. Yeah. Umm, just calling about Stella.”
“Stella?” I’m in an immediate panic. “Is everything okay? Is she hurt? What’s wrong?”
“She’s leaving. She’s starting her travelling early.”
“Yeah,” I say, tightly, “she told me she was going to be leaving earlier than planned. Why are you calling to tell me?”
“She’s leaving today.” His words hit me like a truck.
“Today?”
“Today.”
“Shit. Now, I don’t know everything that happened between you two, but I thought you’d want to know. She left for the airport about an hour ago.”
“An HOUR ago?!” I shout down the line.
“Dude, you have to chill. Yes, she left an hour ago and Hazel just told me you didn’t know.”
“Why are you even telling me?” I ask.
“Because if it were Hazel who was leaving and I thought I’d lost my chance, I might die. I would legitimately be kicking myself for the rest of time if I lost out on a girl like that.”
“Woman,” I correct.
“Don’t play dumb. I’ve seen you two around each other. Even if you can’t admit it, I know what she means to you. Do you?”
“She’s everything,” I say.
“That’s what I thought. Head to Pearson Airport. You should still have time.” My pulse is racing as I’m grabbing my shoes and coat, flinging them on with abandon.
“Sounds good,” I say, and before hanging up, I say one more thing. “And Beck?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Airports are a fucking nightmare designed by sadists. I took a cab here so I wouldn’t have to park or drive through this freak snowstorm that came out of goddamn nowhere, but making my way through the hoards of people, dragging a hastily packed bag is going to be impossible. How am I supposed to find her?
I’ve texted her a few times, but none of them are going through. Beck wouldn’t have sent me here if she had blocked me or didn’t want to see me. He’s not that stupid.
I’m making my way to security, knowing I can’t pass through without a ticket, but I can’t buy a ticket without knowing where I’m going.
I’ve never been so happy to be taller than most people. I’m walking, looking over everyone’s heads, so I don’t notice when I walk straight into a short, twiggy guy dressed like a douche finance bro in his khakis and polo shirt.
“Dude, are you that drummer guy?”
