The Only Thing On My Wishlist

I thought about going to Trafalgar Square immediately, to try to get a feel for who I was buying a gift for, but after my fight with Elliot, all I wanted to do was stay home all day watching TV with mum and eating the cookies she was already baking for Christmas. I didn’t want to see anyone, I didn’t want to go anywhere, because I knew as soon as I left the house, I’d be thinking about her.

Of course, trust Max to ruin my plan. He waltzed into my room at about one in the afternoon, looking quite pleased with himself.

“I’ve figured out who I’m getting my gift for,” he told me, bouncing on the edge of my bed.

I groaned, rolling onto my stomach and burying my face in my pillow. “That’s great, Max. Now bugger off.”

He scoffed. “That’s rude! Here I come to invite you out with me, and you tell me to bugger off. Wait till I tell Lucy.”

“I’m sure she’ll skin me for it,” I replied. “But right now, I really don’t care.”

Max sighed. “What’s the matter with you, mate? You’re all… depressed. Is this about Camille?”

The question was almost laughable.

“No, it’s not about Camille,” I finally told him, rolling over to face the wall. “It’s about me, and I’m tired. So I’ll do whatever you want tomorrow, but not today.”

Max sighed. “Alright, time to stop feeling sorry for yourself,” he announced, and a second later his hand flew under my heavy blanket and wrapped around my ankle.

“Oi!” I protested. “Get off!” I gave my legs a few good kicks, but he’d already dragged me halfway off the bed by the time I could gather my wits, and the next thing I knew, I’d rolled onto the floor with my blankets twisted around me. A moment later, a pair of pants smacked me in the face, and then Max was digging in my closet.

“Which one of these do want to wear today?” he asked, fishing through my collection of holiday sweaters. “How about this one?” He turned, holding up a white sweater with Santa in his sleigh with all his reindeer on the front.

“Whatever,” I resigned, holding a hand out for the shirt.

He smiled. “See, that’s how I like you—submissive.”

I glared at him from the floor. “You’re starting to sound like your girlfriend.”

He shrugged. “Been spending too much time together, I imagine.”

I couldn’t agree more.

I was a little miffed when Mum showed no remorse at my leaving, like she hadn’t been looking forward to spending time with me in the slightest, but I brushed the feeling off because it made me feel like a girl.

“Your bruise looks better,” Max observed as we headed down the drive to his car. “Not quite as… green.”

While I wouldn’t say it looked good, Max was right. My bruise was healing—the last of my evidence that the night with Elliot had ever happened, other than her hostility and my newfound fondness of her. You’d think after a girl kicked me in the head and rejected me to my face that I might give up, and while I had resigned myself to staying in bed all day and avoiding everyone I knew except my parents, that was more of giving myself a break than anything. As soon as I was dressed and out in the cold winter air, I felt recharged, energized. Despite the fact that I had no plan, she had a boyfriend, and she was convinced I was on the rebound, the day was looking rather bright.

“So, what exactly did you need to lug me out of bed for today?” I asked, feigning hostility even though I was quite thankful that he’d managed to drag me out of the house. He may not have been the smartest kid I knew, but he was still my best mate, and apparently he knew what was best for me before I even knew it myself.

He grinned. “I’ve figured out who I’m getting my gift for,” he told me again, as if I hadn’t heard him when he barged into my room twenty minutes earlier.

“I got that part. I meant, why am I being included in whatever you’re getting him?”

“It’s a her,” he corrected me. “And that’s exactly why you’re being included.”

I eyed him. “Max, I don’t really think I’m the best judge of gifts for girls. Remember the part where my girlfriend dumped me?”

“She wasn’t a girl,” Max decided.

“Oh, great, well I’m so glad you’ve decided I was fucking a man. That’s wonderful.”

Max laughed. “I just meant she doesn’t count. Anyway, I know that even your girlfriend owned what I’m going to pick out. I just don’t want to go in there alone.”

I shot him a confused look, but that melted away when we pulled up in front of a store with mannequins in lacy lingerie and naughty Santa outfits in the display windows.

I quirked an eyebrow at him. “Lucy’ll be okay with this, then?”

Max grinned. “That’s the point, mate. It’s for Lucy.”

Now, this is where I reached my dilemma. It was pretty safe to assume that, because she held the master key of numbers and names, Lucy wasn’t in the game—and this was even before she admitted to me at the last party that she sort of wished she’d just asked her dad or Trisha, who were both in the game, to play Secret Santa master so she could be in on the fun. Apparently she never confessed the same to Max. So I could let him buy this lingerie for someone else, maybe even another girl, and let things get way beyond awkward at the next party, or I could stop him and tell him what I knew.

Except everyone knew that Max would never cheat on Lucy, and even if he did, even he wasn’t dumb enough to buy lingerie for the girl and give it to her right in front of his girlfriend. No, this would be funny—probably even borderline hilarious—and I needed a good laugh.

So instead of telling him the truth, of admitting that I knew Lucy wasn’t in the game and that he should get a different gift, I patted him on the back and said, “How’d you figure it out?”

“Easy,” Max replied with a shrug. “For her favorite place, she put the Clockmakers’ Museum. She even tried to disguise her handwriting, but I know she’s the only one at that party that knows what the Clockmakers’ Museum is. She dragged me there on our third date.”

“That was a bit risky,” I mused, rubbing the stubble on my jaw. “It’s hard to hold your attention when we’re eating in a crowded restaurant. How’d she keep you occupied in a museum?”

Max smiled. “I actually found it quite interesting.”

I shot him a look.

“Okay, she wore this skirt, and her legs looked amazing because it was summer and…”

I waved him off. “Right, right, on the list of things I don’t need to hear about, the subject of Lucy’s legs is near the top.”

Our immaturity took hold about then, as we stepped into the store and immediately spotted the scantily clad mannequins. Max lunged for a lacy black set with some sort of elastic contraption hanging off the bottom. I knew it was supposed to hold up stockings or something—I’d seen Camille wear such a thing once, before she proclaimed it was against her beliefs and promptly threw it in the garbage—but the official name was lost on me, as were most things in the “girl world.” I was just glad my world involved nothing but clean boxers and having a condom handy.

“How do you think she’d like me in this?” Max asked, holding the set up against the front of him.

I snorted. “You think you could handle that string up your bum? You’d have to learn to wipe yourself first.”

He shot me an outraged look and smacked me with the hanger, earning a sour look from a nearby saleswoman. He gave her an innocent shrug and hung the set neatly back on the rack.

“I thought it’d look quite nice on you.”

We both turned, surprised to find Lucy browsing casually through a rack of sheer teddies. She looked up, her eyes twinkling as she bit back a smile.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Max complained, wrapping his arms around her and placing a kiss on her cheek.

She giggled. “Actually, I didn’t really expect you to be here, seeing as it’s a lingerie shop.”

“And what are you doing here?” Max asked, pulling back to look at her. “Getting me a Christmas gift?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, but she just laughed.

“Don’t be cheeky. I’m here with Ellie, getting her a new bra.”

That was about when I noticed the girl behind her, who looked like she’d rather sink through the floor into a fiery afterlife than stand anywhere near me in this kind of setting—or maybe even at all.

Her cheeks went red. “Thanks for broadcasting it to the world, Luce.”

Lucy shrugged. “That’s what I’m here for, yeah?” She pulled herself out of Max’s arms. “We do need to get back to work, though, boys. We’re on a very strict mission here.” She wrapped an arm around Elliot’s shoulders and gave her a quick, violent shake. “Gotta find you something sexy in case anyone gets past that chastity suit of yours!”

I quirked an eyebrow at Elliot, who refused to look at me.

“I have a boyfriend,” she said pointedly, staring intently at Lucy, though I knew that the reminder was meant more for me than anyone.

“And?” Lucy shot back, giving her a flat look.

Elliot rolled her eyes. “Just because I don’t wear animal print and lace under my clothes doesn’t mean I’m wearing a chastity suit.” Her gaze flickered momentarily to me, and her cheeks flushed again.

Now, I wouldn’t say that Max is perceptive, because that is really quite the opposite of what he is, more commonly known, of course, as “oblivious,” but I saw him straighten up out of the corner of my eye, catching something that his girlfriend, for once, hadn’t seen.

Lucy grabbed a tan bra off a nearby rack and tossed it at Elliot. “There. If you’re so easily pleased, that should do it, right?”

Elliot stared at it for a moment, touching the fabric and squeezing the cups. Then she looked at us, the color in her cheeks never fading, and said, “I’ll go try it on.”

But I was the only one listening, because Max and Lucy were wrapped up in each other, talking lowly and exchanging spit. Elliot was only a few racks away when I decided the scene was too much for me and followed her.

“I’m a particular fan of the solid colors,” I informed her as we reached the fitting rooms against the back wall.

She stopped short and whirled around to face me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I shrugged. “I figured following you was a better alternative to standing around while they played tonsil hockey.”

I saw her test the words, mouthing tonsil hockey to herself. She started to smile, but then she seemed to remember that she was talking to me and her smile disappeared.

“Well,” she started, her voice tense, “you’re not going to be anywhere near my dressing room while I’m trying on a bra. I don’t want to be able to see, hear, or smell you.”

I shot her a confused look and lifted the hem of my sweater up to sniff it. I noted—and with delight, I might add—that her eyes wandered down to my bellybutton.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to smell me,” I decided, speaking a bit louder than necessary to let her know that I’d caught her looking.

Her eyes snapped back up to my face, narrowing instantly. “Do you get some sort of sick pleasure out of annoying the crap out of me?”

“Sick?” I repeated. “No, I wouldn’t call it sick. I get a very pure pleasure out of your company alone. I think annoying you is just a small bonus.”

“Miss?”

We both turned to the salesgirl, who was waiting in front of the fitting rooms.

“Are you ready?” she asked, nodding at the bra in Elliot’s hand.

Elliot nodded. “Absolutely.” She sounded almost relieved.

The girl cleared her throat and eyed me. “He’s, er, not allowed in there.”

I held my hands up innocently as Elliot replied, “No, he is definitely not allowed in there. I promise.”

She disappeared behind one of the doors while the salesgirl returned to my side.

“You’d be surprised how often we find couples in there doing… stuff,” she told me, giving a disgusted shiver. “Always something to clean up at the end of the night.”

“That’s brutal. You’re a saint for dealing with it.”

She beamed. “Thanks. Sorry about having to keep you out. It’s just, you know, that precaution.”

“Oh, trust me, you don’t have to worry about that with us,” I told her, rolling my eyes.

“Having troubles?” She paused, snapping one eye shut as she slapped a hand against her forehead. “That was rude. Sorry.”

I laughed. “No, you’re alright. Yeah, I guess you could say we’re having troubles.”

“Well, new lingerie can awaken something in a person,” the girl told me, and I got the impression that she felt as though she was handing over a gold nugget of information. She pulled a set off the discard rack beside her. It was leopard print, and the top was sheer. “Like this one. Jungle princess. Can you imagine her in this?”

I didn’t want to admit that I could, but somehow I managed to say, “Yes.”

Suddenly the door to Elliot’s fitting room flew open and she poked her head around to look at me. “Josh,” she snapped, looking furious. “I said I didn’t want to hear you. Remember?”

I gave her an innocent look. “Sorry. I forgot.”

She glared at me. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

She started to close the door again, but the salesgirl was already at her side. “Everything working out, love?”

Elliot cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable as she tried to retreat behind the door. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You can come out and show him if you like,” she offered, waving a hand in my direction.

“No, that’s—”

“Oh, don’t be shy,” the salesgirl pressed, giving Elliot’s arm a small tug. “It’s lovely, I promise.”

“No, no, no,” Elliot protested, pulling against her. “I really don’t want to.” But the girl was still pulling, and maybe it was a panic that set in, but suddenly Elliot shouted, “HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND.”

The girl dropped her arm, stumbling back. “Oh!” she squeaked.

“He’s just the prick trying to get in my pants,” Elliot continued, and I knew then that it wasn’t panic—this was her way of getting back at me. I figured that out even before she shot a self-satisfied smirk over the salesgirl’s shoulder. “I tried being nice, but he just won’t leave me alone.”

The salesgirl, who just two seconds earlier probably would have let us walk out of that store with free lingerie, gave me a murderous look. “You little twat,” she growled. Then she grabbed a phone off the wall, and over the intercom I heard her voice shrieking, “SECURITY! SE-CUR-IT-Y!”

I didn’t even have a chance to make a run for it. A second later, two burly men had me by the arms, both of them big enough to lift me clear off the ground so I hung there like a little kid. They carried me through the store, my heels dragging across the tile while customers stared, and the salesgirl and Elliot watched with pleased little smiles as I was thrown out onto the sidewalk.

Lucy and Max were more than a little confused when they met me there a few moments later.

“What happened?” Lucy demanded, looking concerned.

I just shrugged, refusing to answer, a humiliated blush burning my face.

“Where’s Ellie?” she pressed, looking around.

“I suspect she’s still inside, reveling in her victory,” I muttered sourly.

Lucy’s eyes cut to me. “What’s that supposed to mean? And how in the name of the Queen did you do to get yourself kicked out?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” I shot back, giving my head a jerk in the direction of the doors, behind which I knew Elliot was still lurking, like the monster under your bed or the Creature of the Black Lagoon.

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “And what would she know about it?”

I would have answered, but I was already walking away. I heard her and Max talking a bit behind me, and then suddenly Max was at my side, panting from the twenty meter sprint he’d just made.

“Okay, I’m asking this as your best mate—”

“And resident nosey shithead?” I offered.

“That too,” he agreed. “So what the hell just happened?”

I shrugged. “Elliot told the salesgirl I’m pervy, and the girl went ballistic.”

“Why would Elliot do that?” Max wondered aloud, like he was asking some higher power rather than me.

“Because she’s a bitch,” I answered, even though I was fairly certain he wasn’t expecting me to.

“Why do you say that? I though she was alright. You seemed to get along when we slept there during the storm.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, well we did get along for a bit then,” I admitted, staring at my shoes. “Until her boyfriend called.”

Like I said, I wouldn’t call Max perceptive, but when you spell something out for him, he tends to catch on rather quickly.

“You and Elliot…?”

I nodded, clearing my throat uncomfortably. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, or if I should.” I glanced at him. “I’m still not sure if I should.”

“Nah, you should,” he said, throwing an arm across my shoulders and giving me a quick shake. “Tell me everything.”

“You have to promise you won’t tell Lucy.”

“Oi! That’s Man Code, Josh! I would never!”

I held my hands up. “Just a precaution.”

Then, as we climbed into his car to escape the cold afternoon and merged back into traffic, I told Max everything. I guess my mistake was expecting Lucy to take Man Code seriously.