8. The night is full of dangerous possibilities
eight
The night is full of dangerous possibilities
EWAN
Istare at the flames devouring the logs in the fireplace while petting the cat on my lap—Retia, the tabby.
The guests are milling around me in the massive living room on the second floor, by the kitchen.
Night has fallen, and many of them have migrated back to the hostel like birds looking for a branch to sleep on.
And just like birds, they’re loud as they bicker behind me about what to eat or where to go after dinner, but I’m grateful for the distraction.
I keep replaying what James said this morning in my head. We’ve barely known each other for a few days, but it turns out my expectations were already growing like weeds between the cracks in the pavement. His casual comment about dating put a violent halt to my fantasies.
I didn’t want to date him, per se... We only just met!
But it feels like I’ve been rejected already, before anything even started, and it hurts.
No matter how stupid it sounds, it still managed to hurt me.
The way he’s been caring for me for the past days—and giving me the best orgasm last night—is dangerous for my heart.
So, I need to do the smart thing, and keep my distance.
I sigh deeply and stare intently at the flames dancing. Retia is purring softly, nestled on my lap.
In a few hours, we’re going out. It’ll do me good to see other people. James takes entirely too much space, and all I can see and feel all day is him.
Right now, he’s in our room. After our hours-long brunch, he announced he was going to take a nap and looked at me expectantly.
For a moment, I almost gave in and joined him.
I know how it might have turned out, I’m not clueless.
His heavy-lidded eyes promised untold pleasures.
Even now, I’m still one impulse away from running to him and getting on my knees, consequences be damned.
But I can’t. This is too dangerous for my mushy heart.
I sigh again, and Retia looks up at me, almost reproachfully.
I pet her head. “I know, love. I know. I’m not going.”
We have two more ghosts to hunt, then we’ll be done with the job, and maybe James and I can be friends once we have cooled down.
Tomorrow, I’ll ask Shirley if she can find me a new air mattress.
I drop my head on the back of the couch and close my eyes, thinking again of James’ breath on my throat as he urged me come last night.
By the time Shirley finds me in the living area, I’ve been wallowing in my regrets for a few hours, and misery is clinging to me like a bad smell.
“Oh, Ewan...” she says. “You look properly wretched.”
“Thank you. And you look incredible,” I say.
She has put on a midnight blue, sparkly dress, high heels, and a faux fur black coat. Her purple hair is up in space buns with little star clips and her makeup looks like a galaxy. She’s a vision.
“Why, thank you!” She twirls. “Come on. Let’s get you changed.”
Retia finally leaves my lap to rub herself on Shirley’s legs.
I stand up, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t bring fancy clothes.”
“Just show me what we’re working with.”
I follow her upstairs to our room, glad for her presence by my side. I don’t know if I could have found myself alone with James right now.
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.”
I can’t remember how many I drank so far, but I can feel a nice buzz finally building up. I’m relaxed for the first time all day. They were right. I needed a respite from the ghosts and my worries.
“Order shots!” Lana calls as Shirley walks to the bar. “After the next round, we’re going dancing!”
The others cheer loudly.
I feel something touch me on the shin. Feet have been hitting mine for the past two hours, but this touch is persistent, and it trails along my leg, climbing higher. I look up and find James smiling at me.
Oh, god. He’s the one touching me.
He takes a sip of his beer, burning gaze holding mine as his foot finishes its course between my legs. It’s soft, and I realise he took his shoe off under the table. Pleasure shoots right to my groin and I feel dizzy. He’s such a tease, I’m in serious trouble.
Shirley comes back with my pint and places it in front of me. “You okay, Ewan?” she asks. “You look a little out of it.”
I nod hurriedly. “Aye... Just, getting a little drunk.”
The truth is, James’ foot is rubbing my erection through the fabric of my jeans with his socked foot, and all the blood is rushing down, abandoning my poor brain cells and letting them fend for themselves in my empty skull.
Lana says something to James, distracting him, and he finally relents. I sigh, already regretting his touch. I hold on to my beer with shaky hands and take a generous gulp. He offers me a grin from his end of the table. A grin I wish I could taste...
Thankfully, the round of shots is a welcome diversion, and by the time everyone is seated again, I angle my body towards Luigi to talk with him, making it impossible for James to reach my legs and crotch again.
Do I crave his touch? Yes, terribly. But I know it's not wise, and I’m not drunk enough yet to ignore my own boundaries.
Luigi is a cliché Italian, all charms and hand gestures, and he seems to have set his eyes on Shirley. He’s talking to me, but his attention keeps wandering back to her, just as mine wanders to James.
“She likes you,” he tells me at some point.
I blink, confused. “Who?”
“Shirley.” Luigi laughs. “When you first arrived, she talked about you a lot.”
It’s true that three days ago, on the afternoon when I was helping her put up Halloween decorations, she caught me unaware by asking me out.
I stammered for a good minute, trying to find an excuse to say no, then I realised I could simply be honest. I told her I was gay.
She took it all in stride and looked almost ecstatic.
We talked about boys for an hour. Turns out she’s quite dominant in bed, and we’d have made a good match had she been a man.
We laughed about it, and became friends.
She caught on to my not-so-subtle crush on James pretty fast.
I shake my head and I say to Luigi, “I’m gay, and she knows it.”
Luigi smiles in delight. “Are you?” he asks in a suddenly sultrous voice.