The Only Thing On My Wishlist

I am not what you would call a confrontational person. I don’t like talking things out; I like moving on. I’m not afraid to apologize when I’ve been an arse, but I’ve never felt comfortable telling someone else they’re being an arse. I was especially wary of it when it involved me telling this to my girlfriend.

When I got to her flat the next morning, I knew she was bound to be home. It would either be just her, or it would be her, Gia, and Bailey, though I wasn’t quite hoping for the latter. I didn’t know if my temper could deal with Gia after the crap she pulled at Stardust.

Of course, as luck would have it, as soon as I reached up to knock on the door, it swung open to reveal Gia.

She eyed me, looking less than impressed. “What the fuck do you want?”

I scoffed. “Down off your high horse, Gia. I’m here to see my girlfriend.”

She peeked over my shoulder and around the corner exaggeratedly. “Where’s your little friend? Didn’t bring her around again? Thought you’d use your brain for once?”

“Fuck off, yeah?” I snapped. “I’m not here to see you, and you look like you were on your way out, so why don’t you just keep at that?”

“You’re a fucking wanker,” she snarled as she stomped past me. “I hope for the sake of the next generation that you never reproduce. And I would personally love to give you a swift kick in the bollocks to expedite that process.”

“Gia,” Camille said sternly, appearing suddenly in the doorway. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Gia rolled her eyes. “I’m leaving,” she said, giving an exaggerated bow. Then she flipped me off and turned, walking off down the stairs and disappearing out of sight.

Camille watched me warily as I turned back to face her. “Guess I’m in trouble then, yeah?”

I sighed. “I just wanted to talk to you about yesterday.”

She shrugged. “Come on in,” she offered, opening the door wider.

As soon as the door was shut, I jumped right into the speech I’d been practicing in the car.

“Camille, you can’t just talk to people like that,” I told her. “We’re all trying to make this work, and you seem to just be resisting. It just makes things hard on me, and hard on my friends.”

“Josh, really, this is my life. I don’t do things for your benefit, or for anyone else’s.”

“Well, did you ever think that might have to change? If this relationship is going to work, we both have to make some compromises. So far, I’m the only one who’s been compromising. In order for us to have a future, we have to start setting boundaries and—”

“Whoa, whoa, future? Josh…”

I looked at her.

She squinted at me, looking confused. “Josh… what makes you think this relationship has a future?”

“What?”

She sighed, looking at me like I was some puppy she’d found on the street or a kid she was helping with his homework. “What makes you think what we have is anything more than just… sex?”

“Well, I thought…”

“Josh, you’re great. And I thought you’d be perfect because I don’t want a serious relationship and you’re in a band. I didn’t realize I’d find the one guy in a band who wants someone to settle down with. That’s not me.”

I took a deep breath and opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I was literally speechless. I’d been expecting to go to Camille’s and fix our relationship. I hadn’t realized I was going to find myself… ending it.

“Now that I think about it, maybe it’s fair,” she finally said, sitting down in the big wicker chair they kept under the window. “Not to me, because I like you. Really, Josh, I don’t want you to think that I don’t. I really like you. But we don’t fit, do we? Your friends hate me, and I’m not their biggest fan either. We don’t have the same values or interests. We’re practically living on two different planets.”

I just nodded, slowly, trying to wrap my head around the words coming out of her mouth.

“Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly.

I shrugged. “Dunno,” I answered honestly.

She sighed and stood up, crossing the room to wrap her arms around me, and it struck me as we hugged that it was the first time we’d done such a thing. When Camille hugged me, it was always sensual—wandering hands and lips on my neck or nibbling my earlobe. This was a completely platonic, non-sexual hug. I didn’t feel my pants getting tight, and she wasn’t out to get me hot. It was almost comforting, except I felt a bit sick to my stomach still.

“You’ll be okay,” she whispered in my ear, resting her cheek against my shoulder. “You’ll find a girl who really wants what you have to offer—who needs it, even. And she’ll be so much more than I could be.” She pulled away and stroked my cheeks with her thumbs, offering me a weak smile. “We had some fun though, right?”

I quirked an eyebrow at her, finally giving in to a small smile. “We had a lot of fun.”

She laughed and gave my butt a playful slap. “You bet your arse we did.” She hugged me again, tighter this time, and I knew that it was the last time. We weren’t a couple anymore; this was it. Our relationship, no matter how sex-oriented it was as a relationship, was now over. This hug meant goodbye.

&&

The snow started sometime between my leaving Camille’s and arriving back at my house. My mum was watching the news, raving about some freak snowstorm, but there was always a “freak snowstorm” coming to wreak havoc on the UK in its entirety. I wasn’t about to panic.

“You’re not going out tonight, are you, Josh?” Mum asked as I started up to my room.

“I’ve got Lucy’s holiday thing, remember?” I called down the stairs. “I’ve promised to get there early to help her set things up. Girl’s got me on a leash.”

She laughed. “That she does. Well, make sure you bundle up! And tell Camille she better wear some extra layers.”

I froze, one hand halfway in my pile of holiday sweaters.

“She’s so thin, I swear one gust of wind from this storm might blow her right into the ocean!”

I cleared my throat and peeked out of my room, just far enough to see a hint of her shoe from over the landing.

“Er, yeah, I won’t be telling Camille much of anything anymore,” I told her, stepping farther out of my room, like she had some sort of gravitational pull. “We’re not together anymore.”

Mum emitted an outraged noise, jumping to her feet. “And when were you going to tell me about this, Joshua?” she demanded, stomping to the bottom of the stairs with her hands on her hips.

I shrugged. “Well, you’re the first to find out. So I guess I was going to tell you right now.”

Her face fell. “Oh… Oh, Josh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so recent.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t have the same values or interests,” I told her, repeating Camille’s words like lines from a movie. “We’re practically living on two different planets.”

“So you agreed on this together?” she pressed, looking unconvinced.

“Yeah,” I lied. “I mean, we talked about it, and we agreed this was best. It’s more fair, y’know? She doesn’t want a ball and chain, and, well, I need one.”

She nodded slowly, but I could see the suspicion still in her eyes. “This doesn’t have anything to do with that sweet girl I met over at Trish and Henry’s last night, does it? I stopped by with some chocolate cream pie, and when I asked if she’d met you yet, she said she’d been out with you all day.”

My cheeks instantly set aflame, like a beacon to her bullshit radar. “No,” I said, because it was partly the truth. I can’t lie and say my mind hadn’t wandered to Elliot before I’d even walked out of Camille’s building, but she had nothing to do with our breakup. That was all Camille’s doing.

“That’s just Elliot,” I continued, taking a step back from the banister so she couldn’t see my face. “She’s a friend, that’s all. Lucy’s stepsister from the States. She’s a bit of a Scrooge, so I took her to Trafalgar Square to get some Christmas spirit in her.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, and then finally she gave an indifferent shrug and went back to checking the weather. I retreated into my bedroom.

Mum fought me a bit before I left, claiming it was dangerous to drive in the weather we had, but I brushed her off.

“I promised Lucy I’d help, and you know how she is,” I told her as I shrugged on my heavy coat. “For your future grandkids’ sakes, just let me go.”

She backed off eventually, making me promise to drive safe and keep warm, and I headed out into the cold, where the snowstorm was in full swing. The wind whipped at my face and reddened my nose and cheeks. My lips felt instantly chapped, and my hands were so cold, they hurt. By the time I’d I scraped the snow off my windshield, it had piled right back up, like the frustration that was building up within me. All I wanted to do was turn around and march right back into my house, but I knew Lucy would kill me if I didn’t show, and the promise of seeing Elliot lifted my spirits quite a bit more than I expected.

Finally, in double the time it normally took me to get to her house, I pulled into Lucy’s driveway. It was empty save for the cars that were always there—hers, Max’s, Trisha’s, and Henry’s—and the street was deserted. I figured that was expected, though, because the party wasn’t supposed to start for a few hours, and Max was a staple of the Green/Hanford household, like a family dog or a possum in the attic.

On the porch, I hopped from foot to foot while the icy wind smacked snowflakes against my cheeks. In the fifteen seconds it took for Trisha to come to the door, my nose had already begun to feel wet and my eyes burned from the cold.

“Josh,” she said, sounding surprised as she let me into the house. “What are you doing here?”

I wiped my watering eyes and gave a harsh sniff to keep my nose from running. “I promised Lucy I’d come by early,” I reminded her as I hung my layers on the coat rack. “I saw Max is here already.”

Trisha bit her lip, glancing over her shoulder and back at me nervously. “Um, Josh, we had to cancel the party because of the weather. We didn’t want anyone driving in the storm. Didn’t they call you?”

I glanced at my phone, but it gave no answer. “Doesn’t seem that way.”

She clucked her tongue as I moved to grab my coat. “I don’t think so, Joshua,” she said in that stern way mothers have. “You’re not going anywhere—not tonight, not in this weather. You can stay here.”

I thought about my car in their driveway, and the pile of snow it was likely to be stuck under by morning, but didn’t feel any obligation to fight her on it. I knew we’d all just be happier if I stayed where I was—my mum included.

“Thanks,” I said, hanging my coat back up. “That’s really nice of you.”

She laughed. “Well, we’ve already got Max stuck here for the night. What’s one more, right?”

I followed her into the kitchen, where Max, Henry, Lucy, and Elliot were crowded around the table.

Lucy gave me a strange look when I walked in, like she was surprised but excited at the same time. “Josh! What are you doing here?”

I cleared my throat, averting my gaze when Elliot’s eyes landed on me. “Well, I didn’t get the message that the party’s off, so I was just coming over like I promised.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t call you, did I?” She smacked her forehead. “Of course not. I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry, Josh!”

“S’alright,” I replied, taking a seat beside Max. “Trisha said I’m not allowed to go out in this weather, so I guess you’re stuck with me for the night.” I purposely kept my eyes focused on the wood grain of the table, even though I could feel all their eyes burning a hole into the top of my head. I didn’t want to see Elliot’s reaction; I liked to believe that she was a little pleased, but my realistic side doubted it.

“Ah, the more the merrier,” Henry announced, clapping me hard on the shoulder. “We were just about to pop in a film—”

Suddenly the power kicked off, the whole house going dark and quiet.

“Well,” Henry said, clearing his throat with a small laugh. “I guess we won’t be watching a film after all.”

“I might have a deck of cards around,” Trisha announced as she pulled a few flashlights from the cabinet. “Anyone up for Gin Rummy?”

“Egyptian Ratscrew,” Elliot piped up, speaking for the first time since I walked in. “I’ll help you find the cards.” She pushed back her chair, and the legs scraped loudly against the floor.

“We’ll freeze tonight,” Lucy announced with a sigh, sliding down in her seat. “We’ll have to cocoon up. I’m sure Dad will have us dragging old blankets out of Nan’s hope chest in the basement soon enough.”

“At least there are blankets,” I pointed out, but the humor didn’t quite reach my voice, and they noticed.

“What’s wrong with you, mate?” Max asked, shaking my shoulder a bit. “You’ve looked a bit strange since you walked in.”

I shrugged. “Camille stuff.”

Lucy groaned. “I swear, if that little pube knot did something else after yesterday—”

“You don’t have to worry about her,” I said, rubbing my jaw. “We’re, er, not really together anymore.”

Henry sighed, reaching over to give my back a gentle pat. “The fish and the sea,” he reminded me. “If you’re in it, there will be more fish.”

“Better fish,” Lucy immediately jumped in. “With a better attitude and who your friends want to keep around. You’re really better off, Josh.”

“That’s what Camille said,” I replied with a hollow chuckle.

Max nudged me with his elbow. “You’ll be okay, mate.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, because as much as I wanted to say I didn’t care, I did. She was my girlfriend, and I did care about her, even if I knew she wasn’t perfect and she pissed me off half the time and she never really treated me right. I knew I was better off and that I’d be okay, but it was a lot easier to believe that when we weren’t talking about her.

That night, after we’d put the cards away and gathered all the blankets from the house, Trisha and Henry agreed to let the four of us bunk up in the den for warmth. I was curled up in the Buzz Lightyear sleeping bag I kept in my car with a giant knit blanket Trisha found on top, in a pair of heavy sweatpants I’d borrowed from Henry and the same Christmas sweater I’d put on before I left the house. Max snored beside me on the floor, his face buried in his pillow. We were sharing the floor while Lucy and Elliot shared the couch—Henry and Trisha’s orders.

But I was having trouble sleeping. The steady breathing around me wasn’t enough to lull me into a slumber—not when my brain refused to shut off. I ran over the day’s events in my head until my brain felt numb, trying to figure out exactly how I felt. It was like a mixture of relief but sadness and excitement with nostalgia and hope. I couldn’t pinpoint where I was on an emotional scale—was I happy or was I sad? Wasn’t it supposed to be that simple?

I wasn’t happy. I cared about Camille, and I hadn’t set out to end our relationship that morning. I wanted it to last; that’s why I was trying to make it work. But she’d hit me with a curveball when she decided things would be fair to me if we just weren’t together.

But every time I started leaning toward sad, I remembered the girl sleeping on the couch just a few feet away. There was absolutely no hope for us, even with Camille out of the picture, but I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to it. It’s not like my mind had anything else to do.

I wasn’t even sure what time it was when I heard someone stirring above my head. And then suddenly one of the girls was off the couch, shivering and darting for the stairs, and I knew by the lack of massive curls that it wasn’t Lucy.

I pushed my blankets off and started after her, slower, catching up just as she reached the attic.

“You okay?” I asked, leaning against her doorway.

Her teeth were practically chattering. “I had a weird dream,” she admitted, still caught in the haze of sleep. “And when I woke up, I was f-f-freezing.”

“It’s cold in here,” I reminded her with a laugh. “That’s why we’re all wearing Trisha’s fuzzy socks, remember?”

“She collects them,” she said, laughing as she glanced down at her own purple striped socks. “She thinks they’re good to have in the winter. As usual, she was right.” She shivered again and turned toward the dresser, ripping open one of the drawers. “I know I have a heavier sweater in here,” she muttered, shoving a hand into the drawer.

I just watched her for a moment, not moving.

“So, I heard you talking about Camille,” she finally said, turning toward me again with a pink sweater in hand.

I nodded, stepping farther into the room. “Yeah?”

“That you two broke up,” she clarified. “I—well, I guess I’m sorry. But I think Lucy’s right, you know. I think you’re better off.”

By the time she finished, I was hardly an arm’s length away. She was still holding her sweater, staring down at the space between us.

“Still cold?” I asked, reaching out to touch the fabric of the long sleeved shirt she was already wearing.

“Always,” she answered with a wry smile.

I pulled her closer without thinking, my mouth finding hers in the dark. I expected her to resist, to push me away and tell me to fuck off, but she didn’t. She grabbed onto my ugly Christmas sweater and leaned right back into me, her mouth hot and urgent against mine. Our knees knocked together as she pushed against me, sending us both onto her bed, and her cold hands rushed under my shirt as she pulled it up and over my head.

“I was aiming for the garbage,” she mumbled against my mouth after she’d tossed it across the room. “But I guess the corner will have to do.”

I laughed, shifting my weight until I was on top of her, but I didn’t respond. I pushed my mouth against hers again, shivering when her cold hands brushed against my sides and ran down my back. I buried my own hands in her soft hair, letting it tangle around my fingers as I pulled her closer to me, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

It wasn’t long before her shirt joined mine, and my sweatpants were dangling dangerously low on my hips. I don’t know exactly how long we were in the attic, but it was long enough for both of us to warm up considerably, even with some of our clothes missing. And I don’t know how much farther we would have gone, or where we would have ended up. The point is, we never got to find out. Because somewhere between my fingers working at the clasp of her bra and her nibbling on my lower lip, her phone lit up on the nightstand and blared an obnoxiously loud song into the room.

“Fuck,” she cursed, shoving me off of her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She grabbed her sweatshirt from the floor, and I noted as she pulled it on that it was backwards, but she didn’t seem to care. Then she grabbed her phone, still ringing, from her nightstand. “Grant? Hey.”

That was all I needed to hear. I let a disappointed sigh slip as I grabbed my sweatshirt from the floor, not wasting any time in getting out of her room, pulling it on as I moved back down the stairs and into the den. I slipped under my blanket, into my Buzz Lightyear sleeping bag, and when I could still hear the faint hum of her voice, I zipped it right over my head, like I did when I was a kid.