The Only Thing On My Wishlist

I still had a bruise two days later, in case you were wondering. She kicked me in the head so hard that I thought she’d given me brain damage, or at least a small case of amnesia. I would have taken the latter with open arms, because forgetting that I ever even touched Elliot Green was exactly what I wanted to do.

I couldn’t tell if I was angry at her for accusing me of being on the rebound when I wasn’t, or if I was angry at her for accusing me of being on the rebound and being right about it. And don’t even get me started on how angry I was that she’d kneed me in the bollocks, because it was completely uncalled for. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy having her in that position in the snow, but all she had to do was ask nicely and I’d have let her up.

At least, I think I would have. Then again, I’m pretty sure there was something in me still raging like a rainstorm after what happened in her room the night before.

It didn’t make anything easier showing up to Lucy’s after she’d gotten her power back and the roads were cleared up. There was still snow on the ground, but it wasn’t so bad that none of us could make it to Lucy’s house for the second Secret Santa party. I’d been trying to avoid everyone for the most part, to escape the awkward explanation, but that was all shot to shit when I walked into the foyer that night with a giant greenish-yellow bruise smack in the center of my forehead.

“Oh, wow,” someone giggled.

Lucy’s eyebrows shot straight up when she saw me. “Josh… what’s that on your face?”

I shot a look at Elliot, who stood just a few feet away, but quickly shifted my eyes to Max. “Not sure, really. I figure it happened around the time you shoved your boyfriend onto my head.”

She giggled. “Really? I’m sorry, Joshy.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, you sound sorry.”

“I really am,” she assured me, still laughing to herself. “I just can’t help it. You look… well, you look ridiculous. And the sweater isn’t helping, love.” She pulled at the front of my white Santa Claus sweater for effect.

“Everyone’s always got something to say about the sweaters.”

“Don’t worry, we all still love you anyway,” Lucy replied, pinching one of my flushed cheeks. “If you want, I can get some cover up for it. If you’re really embarrassed.”

I pulled a face. “Wow, that’s generous of you.”

“I like to think I’m a giver,” Lucy answered. “I’m being serious, though, because we’re taking another holiday photo today. Elliot didn’t get to be in the other one, and I figured it would look pretty with the snow and the house all lit up.”

I stared at her. “Are you mental?”

“You know, for someone who claims to love Christmas as much as you do, you aren’t very cooperative when it comes to being in the spirit.”

“Only when being in the spirit requires me to take another family photo when it’s bollocks-shriveling cold outside and I’ve got a bruise the size of Saudi Arabia in the middle of my forehead.”

“Oh, quit whining. Just put your hat on, and no one will tell the difference.”

She was right, but I didn’t want to tell her that. I made a mental note to thank my mum for the trapper hat she’d insisted on buying me when she found out I didn’t have a suitable winter hat—beanies, apparently, didn’t work for her.

“We’re writing our clues first,” she told me as she walked farther into the living room, “and then we’re all going outside for the photo, and when we come back, I’ll distribute the clues.”

“You should be a game show host,” I informed her.

She flipped me off, earning a disapproving objection from her dad, who was standing a few feet away with Trisha.

“That was charming,” I told her when she turned back to me.

“You’re awfully sassy tonight, Joshua. Your dick having Camille withdrawal?”

I glared at her. “That’s sensitive of you.”

She held her hands up like guns and waved them at me, clicking her tongue. Then she turned and walked away, joining Max and Maddy near the Christmas tree. I was just about to hunt down the cheese platter when Elliot passed by me, distracting me from anything and everything else in the room.

“If this was supposed to be some kind of Christmas gift, I must say, you’re doing it wrong,” I told her as I followed her into the empty kitchen.

She stopped, slowly turning around to face me. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve got a giant bruise in the center of my forehead, Elliot. People are looking at me like I’m an alien.”

She scoffed. “Oh, yeah? Well, allow me to feel sorry for you. Oh, wait. No. Because I have this.” She yanked the collar of her turtleneck down to allow me a generous view of the reddish-purple hickey a few inches above her collarbone. “I used about half a bottle of concealer trying to cover this up yesterday, and today I had to steal this from my mom’s closet because I haven’t owned a turtleneck since I was about nine. Do you know how hard it is to smuggle clothes out of your mom’s closet without raising suspicion? Especially a turtleneck, for which you have always expressed your utmost hatred?”

I grinned. “Not really,” I replied, quirking an eyebrow at her. “But I’d say that’s karma.”

“If you don’t leave me the hell alone, I’ll run you over with my karma, okay?”

“I didn’t realize you had one here.”

She shot me a severe look, and seeing as I already had evidence of her violent tendencies on my face, I figured it was time to take my leave.

I held my hands up innocently, backing up toward the door. “I can take a hint,” I told her. “I’ve gotta say, though, you’re sort of alluring when you’re all riled up like this.”

“I’m sure anything’s alluring when you’re three days fresh out of a relationship.”

Before I could even begin to form an argument, she shoved past me and rejoined everyone in the living room.

When I followed a few minutes later, Lucy had everyone sitting in various places with slips of paper red and green paper, and there were a few pens scattered across the coffee table.

“Sit down, Josh,” Lucy ordered sternly, pointing at the empty spot on the couch. I noticed that Elliot had stolen the only chair—probably making sure she wouldn’t have to sit next to me. And that was fine by me, because I didn’t want to sit next to her either. If she could kick me in the head without remorse, I didn’t want to be anywhere near her when she had the opportunity to stab me in the neck with a pen. The girl had serious anger management issues.

“Okay, so here’s what you’re going to do,” Lucy started, standing up at the front of the living room. “Write down your favorite place within a thirty minute drive from my house. Then when I call you into the kitchen, I’m going to tell you what your number is and the number of your gift-receiver. When you bring your gifts to the next party, which has been moved, as you all know, you’re going to put your gift-receiver’s number on their gift. So when you’re looking for your gift, you’re looking for your number. That way no one will be confused about whose gift is whose.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds loads less confusing,” Matt chimed in.

She shot him a look. “I hope your Secret Santa gets you coal.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning a wounded look.

“Anyway, write down your clue and then we’re going outside to take another holiday photo, and then we’re coming back in so I can sort out the clues and hand them back.”

“Why wouldn’t we just give them to you now?” Chris asked, looking up from his paper.

Lucy sighed. “Because I said so.”

I looked back at my paper, contemplating what I could write. It was supposed to be a clue, but I couldn’t figure out how putting my favorite place in the area was going to give anyone a clue about who I was.

“Okay,” Lucy called, grabbing her coat from the rack by the door. “I hope you’re all finished, because it’s time for another family photo.”

“Are you going to send this in a card to everyone in my family like you did the last one?” Max asked as I shrugged on my coat and grabbed my hat.

“Yes,” she replied, kissing his nose.

He smiled, looking immediately dumbstruck. “Oh, alright then.”

Someone made a whipping noise, and everyone laughed.

Once outside, Elliot was the first to speak up about how cold it was. “It’s got to be, like, negative forty out here. Seriously, I think this is illegal in most countries.”

“Taking pictures?” Lucy asked, raising her eyebrows.

Elliot shivered, shaking her head as she joined the group. I watched her for a minute, hidden by a few of my friends, as she rubbed her arms through her coat. Her teeth still chattered, and she had her hands cupped over her ears, as her hair must not have been enough to block out the frigid night air. It was even rather windy, which wasn’t helping, and Lucy was taking forever to figure out the perfect angle on the camera with Henry and fitting us all into the frame.

I sighed, moving toward Elliot as Lucy finally took her spot in the front. Henry had taken her place with the camera while Trisha, who shared her daughter’s sentiments for the cold, watched us through the window.

I pulled my hat from my head and slid it down over her hair, ignoring her protests as she moved her head wildly, trying to get a look at me from under her hair and the fur of my trapper hat.

“Oi!” I protested as one of her elbows caught me in the ribs.

“I don’t need your stupid hat,” she snarled, pulling it off of her head. Her hair stuck up all over the place from the force.

“Just wear it,” I pleaded, exhausted with her attitude. “You’re freezing. There’s no reason for you to refuse it.”

“I don’t want it,” she said, still holding it out. She shook it at me, like that might expedite my taking it back.

“Can you forget your pride for two seconds and just put it on so you don’t look like you’re about to go into hypothermic shock when they take this picture?”

She glared at me until someone else shouted, “Jesus, just put the hat on already! I’m freezing my bollocks off!”

I hadn’t realized we’d acquired an audience until then, and when I looked up, I realized everyone, including Henry and Trisha, was staring at us.

Elliot let out a defeated sigh and pulled the hat on, earning a few cheers. I felt my cheeks heating up from embarrassment, which was actually kind of nice against the cold.

“Okay, everybody lean in!” Henry called, waving us all closer together.

I cleared my throat, wrapping one arm tentatively around Elliot’s shoulders. She tensed for a moment, but then she leaned into me, resting her head against my shoulder. When I looked over, I noticed she was smiling—teeth showing, million dollar smiling. I was still looking when the flash went off.

Elliot pushed away from me almost immediately and ripped my hat from her head. “Thanks,” she said, her voice clipped. Then she shoved the hat into my hands and marched back into the house.

I shook my head, scowling as I followed her inside.

“I’m really tired, Mom,” she was saying when I stepped back into the living room.

“But you’re going to miss the end,” Trisha protested, looking concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Elliot replied, quite a convincing actress. “Like I said, I’m just tired.”

“Were you on the phone with Grant all night again?” Trisha demanded, her voice reproachful.

Elliot didn’t answer, but I saw her eyes slide toward me. I immediately turned and pretended to be admiring the Christmas tree.

“I don’t like it, Elliot,” Trisha went on. “I don’t like it one bit. You’re so stressed out all the time, it’s not good—”

“Mom,” Elliot said, cutting her off, “I really don’t want to get into this here. I’m going upstairs to go to bed. I’ll get my clue from Lucy in the morning.”

She didn’t wait for Trisha to respond. She turned and walked right past me, past everyone, stopping only to hand something to Lucy—her clue, I assumed. She was almost to the stairs when I caught up with her.

“Elliot,” I said, grabbing her hand before she got too far.

She whirled around, yanking it out of my grasp. “Don’t—” She shook her head, not finishing.

“You, er, you don’t have to go upstairs,” I told her, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “I’m leaving as soon as I get my clue from Lucy, so you can stay. I won’t be here much longer.”

She glared at me. “What makes you think you have anything to do with me going upstairs?” she spat.

I reeled back, surprised, and I thought I saw something flash across her face in that moment—regret, or maybe just more disgust. I couldn’t be sure.

“What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that I’m not on the rebound?” I finally mustered the courage to ask. It was the question that had been brewing in my mind all day. I wasn’t on the rebound. If I was, I’d know it, wouldn’t I? So it wasn’t that my dick was having Camille withdrawal, as Lucy so eloquently put it. I think I genuinely liked Elliot. I liked her even when she was being a self-righteous bitch. I especially liked her when she was rolling around on her bed with me. But it wasn’t the way it had been with Camille. I always wanted more, more, more with Camille—there was no stopping, no satisfaction, there was always just the urge to keep going. Like I hoped that eventually I would reach a place where I was just content. It was different with Elliot. I knew, without even having to be with her, that I would have been content just holding her. There was something about her eyes, how sad she looked all the time, that made me want to make her smile. And I knew I could, and knowing that I could make her smile made me want to do it more.

“It’s going to take you not being on the rebound,” she answered, refusing to look at me. Instead, her gaze focused somewhere over my left shoulder.

“Elliot,” I said, forcing myself to remain calm, “you’ve told me I have a fat head, kneed me in the bollocks, kicked me in the forehead, and I’m still trying. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Doesn’t that prove that maybe I just genuinely like you?”

She sighed. “Josh.” Her voice was almost a whine, but finally her eyes met mine. She wasn’t revealing anything with that stare. “I have a boyfriend, and I love him. What you’re asking of me… it’s impossible.”

“And if you didn’t have your boyfriend, would it still be impossible?”

She didn’t answer right away. She cleared her throat, looking suddenly flushed and uncomfortable, and finally turned away from me.

“I’ll never not be with Grant. So it’s stupid to even think about it.”

A few seconds later, she disappeared up the steps. I waited at the foot of the stairs until I heard her close the door to her attic bedroom, still catching my breath.

Elliot Green was an anomaly, an enigma, and she was starting to make me feel like I was too. I could hardly figure out why I was concerned, why I didn’t want her to be so angry with me for what happened, why I was trying to convince her to break up with her arse of a boyfriend and be with me. I didn’t even know if that was really what I wanted. I mean, I went from never wanting to touch her again, just that morning, to not being able to get her out of my head all night. Maybe it was because she was right in front of me, but the truth is, she had me wholly and entirely mixed up.

When I went back into the kitchen to get my clue from Lucy, all she had to offer was a smile, the numbers I needed, and a slip of paper that read, Trafalgar Square.