The Only Thing On My Wishlist

I felt the effects of my antics the previous night the second I woke up. My head was pounding, my eyes felt sticky, my tongue felt heavy, and as soon as I sat up, the nausea hit me.

I hadn’t thought I was too pissed the night before. I’d been coherent enough to play the gig, to talk to Lucy, and to ruin just about everything with Elliot.

Not that there was an “everything” to ruin. The “everything” I’m talking about is what could have possibly been some sort of friendship. But of course, I guess I wasn’t coherent enough to remember proper etiquette when befriending someone—you’re not allowed to answer their phone until you’re certain they’re not dating a total psychopath.

I guess my reaction to the prat wasn’t the best, but really, if he talked to her the way he talked to me, he really needed a good kick in the bollocks. I would have been more than happy to deliver if he was just a hop, skip, and a jump down the road.

“Josh?” my mum called through the door as she gave it a couple light taps. “You awake, love? You’ve got company.”

I glanced longingly at my bathroom, wanting badly to take a piss, but I turned and trudged begrudgingly to the door, pulling it open to reveal my rosy-cheeked mum and a less-so Lucy lurking behind her.

“Oh, it’s you.” I didn’t mean for it to come out so abruptly, but out of anyone, Lucy was the least likely to take offense.

“You say this as though you have a whole host of other friends,” she replied brashly. Then to my mum, she said, “Thank you very much, Lydia. If you hear any girlish screams… well, that’ll just be your son while I’m beating some manners into him.”

Mum laughed, the traitor. “I’ve been trying for years, Lucy, but good luck to you. Just don’t kill him, love. I don’t want the Christmas gifts I’ve already got him to go to waste.”

“That’s lovely of you, Mum,” I called after her as she headed for the stairs. As soon as she dropped out of sight, Lucy grabbed me by the ear and practically dragged me back into my bedroom.

“You’re a little twat, Joshua,” she sneered. “You’re literally ruining everything!”

“I think that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you?” I rubbed my sore ear, giving her a sour look. “I can’t have ruined everything.”

“You ruined everything with Elliot,” she shot back brusquely.

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter much to me,” I lied, feigning indifference.

“I’d wager it does,” she argued, her cheeks going red. It was something I saw a lot when she argued with Max. Lucy was a profoundly passionate girl, and she’d never let you forget it.

“I’m missing the point of this conversation, Lucy,” I told her honestly, trying to stray her away from the subject of my ruining “everything” with Elliot. I’d been thinking about it enough in the five minutes I’d been awake, and I didn’t really need her reminding me when it was already the only thing on my mind.

“You have to fix it,” she stated simply.

“Fix… what, exactly?” I asked, hoping this wasn’t going where I thought it was going.

“Fix things with Elliot.”

I blanched. “A-and how do you expect me to do that?” I stammered, my voice cracking.

She smiled. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“And why should I?” I challenged. “I told you before, doesn’t matter to me if she hates me or not. She’ll be gone after New Years, yeah? I’ll probably not be seeing her regularly.”

Lucy’s lips twitched. “Quit playing this game, Josh. Get dressed and go over there, okay? Take her out, show her—”

I cut her off. “You do realize I have a girlfriend, right, Lucy? And that she has a boyfriend? You’re not trying to play some sort of Cupid, are you?”

She scoffed, looking appalled. “I would never! It’s just important to me that two of my favorite people in the world get along!”

I bit my lip. “And what makes you think she’ll leave with me?”

She shrugged. “Honestly, Josh, I don’t care if you have to carry her out of there in her jim-jams, just as long as you get her out of that house.”

“I’m holding you to that,” I told her pointedly. Then I rubbed my face with one hand and pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to block out my headache. “Do I have time to shower?”

“Make it quick,” she snapped, pointing at me. “If you’re lucky, you’ll catch her before she wakes up and has time to replay it all in her head a thousand times.”

When I got out of the shower ten minutes later, Lucy was gone, but she’d left her house key on my night stand beside my phone with a note on a receipt from Topshop, written in what I could only assume was something she found in her makeup bag.

You better not scare her. Give a shout or something when you go in. Lose this key and it’s your bollocks.

She was so crude. I crumpled the note and shoved the key into my back pocket.

By the time I got to Lucy’s, it was almost eleven. I couldn’t believe I was up so early myself, but I had a feeling Elliot wasn’t suffering from quite the hangover I was. I’d been hoping to sneak in a few more hours of sleep, but obviously Lucy foiled that plan.

“Hello?” I called hesitantly as I peeked into the foyer. I’d never been in Lucy’s house unattended, and even though I’d known her and her father for years, it felt almost forbidden to be there without one of them—or even Trisha.

Silence greeted me, and my voice bounced off the furniture and walls, echoing up the stairwell.

I sighed and stepped inside, shutting the door behind me, and headed up to the attic, where I assumed I’d find Elliot.

“Hello?” I called again as I started up the stairs, just to give her fair warning in case she wasn’t properly dressed.

When I stepped into what I figured had to be Elliot’s room—as I knew which one belonged to Lucy, and not just because her name was plastered across the door in giant colorful letters—I found her still in bed, eyes closed, arms wrapped tight around a pillow.

I cleared my throat and rubbed at my unshaven chin—Lucy hadn’t quite given me enough time to make myself completely presentable.

“Up and at ‘em, my jolly little candy cane,” I called brightly. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

Elliot shot up in bed, her eyes wide. It seemed to take her a second to first, register where she was, and second, register who was standing in her bedroom. As soon as she got her wits about her, though, her face contorted into a scowl.

“What are you doing in my bedroom?” she demanded roughly, looking far from pleased.

I forced a wide smile. “I’m taking you on a Christmas… adventure?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I sounded like such a prat.

She eyed me. “Oh, yeah? And what makes you think I’m going to go anywhere with you?”

“Because…” I sighed and reached up to rub the back of my neck, glancing awkwardly at my feet. “I want to apologize and I figure that should go with a gesture because I was such a giant wanker last night?”

She scoffed and flopped back down onto her bed, rolling over so her back was facing me. “I don’t think so,” she announced around a yawn. “Now, you can leave, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”

I sighed, rushing a hand through my hair until it stood straight up. “Well,” I said slowly, rolling my eyes up to the ceiling, “I guess you can either go get ready and leave willingly or I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you out.”

She let out a brusque laugh. “Are you kidding me? In what world would that ever fly?”

“Considering Lucy’s the one who gave me the key to your house, I doubt anyone would mind much,” I replied easily.

She shot back up in bed and glared at me. “Are you fucking with me?”

I shrugged. “You can keep laying there and find out. But I doubt your jim-jams will do you much good out in the cold.”

She flopped back, rolling her eyes. “Like you could even—HEY!”

I hauled her over my shoulder and started toward the door.

“PUT ME DOWN! JOSH! I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL—”

I cut her off. “Don’t make empty threats, Elliot,” I said with a laugh.

“Oh, we’ll see how empty they are when I’ve punched you in the fucking throat,” she snarled, kicking her legs hard against my grip.

I grunted when her elbow caught me in the back. “I warned you, remember?”

I stumbled backward suddenly, pulled by her clutch on the banister. We were about five feet from the front door, and I’d been wondering for a bit how I was going to force her into my car without attracting attention from the neighbors.

“Let go of the banister, Elliot.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Did you really think that was going to work?”

“Maybe,” I answered sheepishly.

Suddenly she did let go, though, and the momentum from how hard I was pulling against her sent us both sprawling across the floor. Elliot gave me a swift kick in the ribs as she scrambled out from under me, struggling against my weight. I landed hard on the wood floor, breathing hard.

It wasn’t until I looked over at her, collapsed on the stairs, that I realized we were both laughing.

“You bloody well killed me,” I coughed out between fits of laughter.

Elliot snorted, rolling up from the floor and pulling her shirt down. It had rode up and over her ribs, the pink bra she was wearing slightly visible. Yes, I noticed. Was I not supposed to look? I think it was clear I’m not a proper gentleman.

“Would you quit staring?” She mumbled. “I might think twice about leaving the house with you.”

“You’re coming?” I sounded surprised and she just gave me a confused look.

“How else am I supposed to torture you for dragging me out of bed at this hour?”

She quickly disappeared up the stairs, leaving me alone in the living room yet again. I thought this would be a proper point in time to get off the floor, and when I did, I found myself twiddling my thumbs.

Henry and Trisha had a lot of pictures and I couldn’t help thinking they were silently judging me after the move I just pulled with Elliot. I was just doing what I was told. Lucy said to drag her out of bed if I had to and I know Lucy, so I knew she meant it.

“Alright.” Elliot came flying down the stairs five minutes later, the same winter coat and earmuffs on as the other day, except this time her hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail, showing off her eyes that I hadn’t realized were so green. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

I pulled open the front door, motioning her out before me. As soon as we were on the front porch, she was practically shivering.

“God, this is awful,” she muttered, sniffling against the cold. “I’ve never been so cold in my life.”

I screwed my mouth up on one side, shooting her a sideways glance. “Well, we’re going to be outside,” I admitted as I unlocked my car and climbed in.

She eyed me from the passenger seat. “And this is supposed to redeem you?”

“I figure it’ll inspire some Christmas spirit in you,” I replied honestly.

She furrowed her brow but didn’t press it. Instead, she leaned forward and began adjusting the vents so they all pointed toward her and then cranked my heat up to full blast. By the time we got to Trafalgar Square, I was practically panting, and my face had started to get splotchy.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I asked as we climbed out of the car and into the crisp winter air. It was like heaven on my blazing cheeks.

She stared at me over the roof of the car and then lifted one of her earmuffs. “Did you just say we’re meeting Billy? Who’s Billy?”

I opened my mouth to respond and then stopped, shaking my head. “Never mind,” I answered.

She shrugged and dropped her earmuffs again. “So where are we going exac… oh.”

I shot her a smile, because standing before us, overlooking the vast Trafalgar Square, was the Trafalgar Square Christmas tree. It was as tall as a building, even in the daytime, unlit and plain-looking, it was something magnificent.

“My mum takes us to watch them light it every year,” I told her. “I figured it’d be better to take you at night, but I didn’t want to give you all day to replay last night in your head.” I cleared my throat, feeling suddenly uncomfortable as she turned her gaze on me. “Sorry for being such a wanker.”

Her lips twitched, like she was fighting back a smile.

“Are you and your boyfriend, er, okay?”

She frowned. “We will be, I think.”

“Good,” I squeaked, my voice cracking. I blushed, embarrassed. In an attempt to distract her from that, I said, “I’ve always wanted to go to New York City and see them light the tree in Rockefeller Center.”

“Me too.”

I raised my eyebrows, a little surprised. “Really? But you hate Christmas.”

She scoffed. “I don’t hate Christmas. I’m not the Grinch, okay? It’s just not the big event to me that it is to everyone else. It comes every year. It always will. I just don’t get what the big deal is.”

I opened my mouth to tell her just what the big deal was about Christmas—and you can imagine the spiel I was about to go on, the guy with an ugly Christmas sweater for the first twenty-five days of December—but she wasn’t finished.

“Anyway, I figured I’d go to New York with my mom to see it, because she’s such a big Christmas fanatic. I’m kind of surprised she never dragged me there to begin with, but I guess it’s a long way from home.” She looked up at the tree and shrugged, smiling. “Maybe next year we’ll come watch this tree get lit up.”

“It’s the first Thursday of December,” I told her. “You probably won’t even be here, right?”

She looked at me, her brow furrowed. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, you’re going to Duke. Lucy told us all that you’ve been planning to go there—y’know, with your boyfriend and all.”

She stared at me blankly, unblinking.

“I mean, I just figured that’s the kind of girl you are,” I admitted, feeling suddenly stupid. I wished she would say something, if only to get me to shut my big mouth.

“I haven’t decided anything yet,” she finally said, turning her eyes back to the tree. “Duke is just an option.”

I didn’t say anything else. I seemed to have a way of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time every time I opened my mouth around Elliot. I figured it might be best to just shut up for a while. Of course, she didn’t seem to be much of a conversationalist either, so we mostly just stood there in silence until my phone rang.

It was Camille.

”I’m sorry I didn’t show up last night,” she said before I could get a word in.

I cleared my throat, stepping away from Elliot, who was watching me out of the corner of her eye. “S’alright,” I lied. “I figured something came up.”

“Right,” she replied. “It did. Something’s always coming up. Anyway, I wanted to see you today. Are you around?”

“Not at home, no,” I told her. “I’m at Trafalgar Square with a friend.”

”That’s even better,” Camille replied. ”There’s a reading this afternoon at Stardust. I was hoping you’d stop by.”

A reading. The term literally elicited a narcolepsy within me. I’d been to my fair share of Camille’s readings since we started dating, and they were mostly just angry girls that Camille was friends with ranting about fur/men/women/vaginas/sex/meat.

“Er,” I hesitated, glancing nervously at Elliot. “Well, I could stop by. Mind if I bring someone along though?”

”As long as you’re there,” she purred. ”Maybe we’ll get a moment alone in the bathroom, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I squeaked.

She laughed. ”Alright, I’ll see you there then.”

“Well,” I said after I’d hung up, turning back to Elliot, “how do you feel about poetry?”

She made a face. “I hate it. How does anyone feel about it?”

I had to agree. “Yeah, well, there’s this reading at Stardust, and Camille wants us to stop by.”

“Us?” she repeated, looking suspicious.

“She said you’re welcome to come along,” I told her.

“And what’s Stardust?”

“Coffee shop in Soho.”

“Coffee?” She visibly perked at the word. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

I pulled a face. “Really?”

“It’s what I run on. Like gasoline to a car.”

I shuddered. “I hate coffee almost as much as I hate poetry.”

“Why are we going then?” she asked, looking confused. “I mean, she doesn’t come to your shows, does she?”

“She usually does,” I told her, immediately jumping to the defensive. There was no other way to be, really, when Camille came up in conversation.

She eyed me, looking unconvinced. “Well, if you’re going to be dragging me around all day, I’d say you owe me at least a latte.”

I laughed. “Oh, yeah?”

She nodded. “At least,” she repeated. “I wouldn’t object to some sort of pastry either, though, considering I haven’t eaten yet. Didn’t have much time after you literally dragged me out of bed.”

“Careful,” I said, chuckling to myself, “any more demands and this might be considered a date.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it was the wrong thing to say. Except when I looked at Elliot, she hadn’t even batted an eye.

“A date right in front of your girlfriend!” She grinned. “We’re ballsy.”

I shrugged. “Well, I think I’d be a bit more afraid if your boyfriend was there.”

Her face fell, her smile melting into a frown instantly. “Oh… yeah.”

And I’ll admit it, for a moment I wondered what it might be like if Elliot and I were both single, if Stardust was the kind of place we’d go for a date, how it might be.