Page 35 of Purrfectly Haunted

When we make it to the room, he’s squaring off with one of the cats again. Lupin, the Russian blue, is sitting on our bed. James is doing half-hearted shooing motions, keeping his distance, while the cat ignores him entirely.

“Oh good, my saviours,” James says. “Can you get it out? It’s sitting on my coat.”

Shirley laughs and grabs Lupin, who meows joyfully.

James looks appalled as he holds his black bomber jacket, now covered in fur. “Great...”

I’d laugh, if I wasn’t trying so hard not to gawk at him. Tonight, he’s wearing a ripped tank top, showing his tattoos and midriff. A silver earring is dangling on his left ear, and he has styled his dark hair back, revealing the elegant shape of his neck and jawline. He looks like a lethal combo between a rock star and a K-pop idol.

Oh, he’s beautiful... I swallow through the lump in throat.

Shirley, bless her, distracts me. “Ewan, empty your bag for me.”

I obey dutifully and place all my clothes on the bed under their watchful eyes. It feels a wee strange to have James participating to whatever this is, but I can’t really kick him out of our room.

Shirley makes quick work of the bottom of my outfit, throwing away all the sweatpants as if they personally insulted her.

“This one,” James points to my blue jeans. “They hug his ass just right.”

I blush furiously.

Shirley nods. “Yes. How about this shirt?” She unfolds a white button down.

James shakes his head. “We need something that shows off his muscles. Find the tightest t-shirt. The kind that looks like it’s bursting at the seams when he wears it.”

What?

Shirley grins. “Oh yes, for sure. Hm, our choice is limited...” She places all my t-shirts in front of us, and makes a face. I mostly wear baggy clothes.

“Wait, I have an idea,” James says. He grabs his bag.

No... don’t tell me...

He pulls out a dark red t-shirt and brandishes it. “This one’s large on me, but it should be perfect on you.” There is the logo of some music band on it.

“Try it!” Shirley exclaims.

Resigned to my fate, I turn my back to them and swiftly change into the t-shirt while trying not to take a whiff. Does it smell like James?

When I turn back, Shirley is doing a thumbs-up and James is grinning.

“Perfect!” she says. “Look at the way it hugs his chest.”

He nods. “Oh, I’m looking.”

I flush. I’m in trouble, I realise as they urge me to put on the jeans and Shirley announces she’s going to style my hair.

The seven of us go out around nine. Shirley, Lana, James, Noah, an Italian guy called Luigi, and a girl called Emma who sounds French, but informed us with a frozen smile that she’s actually from Belgium. Lana, too, has gone all out for the evening, dressing in a tight, long black dress with an impressive cleavage, red lipstick, and her red curls unbound. She looks like a vampire queen as she offers me an arm, and we walk together to their favourite pub a few streets over.

The place is a quintessential Scottish pub, with a long wooden counter, sticky with beer, the smell of greasy food wafting from the kitchen, dim lighting, and laughter spilling from every corner. It’s still fairly quiet at this hour, and we find a large table without too much trouble. We sit around it and order drinks and plates of food to eat while sharing stories.

I’m used to going out with my teammates, who are all headstrong and loud, and so it’s a nice change to be with people who listen to me attentively when I talk.

Out of self-preservation, I dallied when we all chose seats to avoid sitting close to James. Alcohol and resolution don’t mix well. I often feel his heated gaze on me, and it makes me feel hot all over. I just can’t stop thinking about last night when he—

“Another pint, Ewan?” Shirley asks, getting to her feet.

I stare at my already empty glass. “Aye. Thank you.”