Yasmine let out another sigh of distress as she pressed herself against the invisible figure, her body quickly becoming chilled to the very core, but she didn’t want to part from him just yet as she leaned over the center console. The feeling of Monty’s hand gently stroking the back of her head was so nice that she didn’t even care about the impending headache it was probably about to bring. In the end, it was him who ended up worrying about her touching him for too long.
“Yazzie, you are shivering. You really should let go and head inside to warm up. I can bring in the groceries. Go turn on the heater,” Monty urged, not wanting her to get sick because of him. Yasmine let out a groan of frustration, but she knew he was right. Her lips were starting to feel numb, and her teeth were chattering slightly. Before she separated, she asked him a question.
“Is… that the only reason you want me to let go?” The question hung in the air for a long moment. The truth was, he would much prefer her to stay like this forever. So he could bask in her warmth and keep holding her like this till she felt better. He wanted to tell her that… but he knew that saying foolish things like that would only turn their relationship into a silly pipe dream that would possibly keep Yasmine from living what Monty considered a full life.
“Yasmine I-”
“Actually, no, that was a stupid question, don’t answer that.” She said, cutting him off before he could answer. She pushed herself up and rubbed her arms, still shivering badly, trying to warm up.
“I just had a really rough time at the grocery store, but I will tell you about it in a bit.” Monty gave her a look of consternation that did little as she, of course, still couldn’t see his expression or any part of him.
“Go inside and turn on the heater. I will get these bags inside. You can tell me about it over supper.” Thankfully, Yasmine was too cold to argue. She simply nodded, opened the door, and got out, still rubbing her arms, trying to warm up. He watched her close the car door and then rush into the home.
“Of course, that's the only reason I would want you to move from my arms… fuck I hate being a ghost.” He grumbled to himself as he quickly opened up the back hatch, gathered up every single bag, and easily floated them into the house. The hum of the heater just now starting to blow hot air surrounded him as he quickly moved into the kitchen. Yasmine was wrapped up in a blanket, sitting on the recliner, curled up in a ball of warmth but still shivered.
Monty quickly got all the bags unpacked and sorted into the fridge and freezer. It seemed like she had gotten just about everything he had written down on the list. There were a few things missing and a few things he didn’t write down, but it was just fine with him. There was plenty for him to work with here. And he had just the recipe in mind that would warm up the Yazmine popsicle.
Breaking into the cheap knife block set and the large stock pot, he set everything up before he began to prep the veggies and some chicken. The sound of rapid chopping quickly started to come from the kitchen. Out of habit, Monty began to sing again. Though this time, the song was a bit different.
“In the twilight glow I see, blue eyes crying in the rain. When we kissed goodbye and parted. I knew we’d never meet again. Love is like a dying ember and only memories remain. And through the ages I’ll remember, blue eyes crying in the rain.” Yasmine poked her head out of the blanket to listen to his melodic, almost haunting voice sing. Her grandfather had been a huge Willy Nelson fan, so the song choice wasn’t surprising. But it felt like so much more than just a song when Monty was singing it. Like he had actually lived the lyrics, it honestly made her want to start crying, but that would have been far too ironic for her. For now, she just sat there and enjoyed his song.
The scent of simmering veggies and chicken started to fill the house with warmth and a peaceful feeling that made her feel like she was really home. Yasmine hadn’t realized how much she missed her parents until that very moment. It made her think about how far away she was and when she would have time to actually go see them. It might be a while unless she gets some time off. Though three hours didn’t seem all that long, that was only one way, and it was honestly quite the distance when she factored in. She was now working full time and would only have Saturday and part of Sunday before needing to come back.
If Yasmine didn’t have Monty… could she have really done this? Could she have really lasted more than a week or so? Knowing she had him to help and support her emotionally, it was like a safety net that would catch her whenever she might fall. They had only been back together for a few days, and she was already finding herself completely dependent on the imaginary friend turned ghost. She let herself sink into her bundle of blankets, the heat in her cheeks helping warm her up quicker.
After a few more moments, the lid of the large stock pot was placed atop it so the soup could finish cooking. Monty floated out into the living room, looking over at the head poking out of the mass of blankets. He smiled at the cute sight, unable to help himself.
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“Feeling a bit better?” He asked softly. She managed only to jump slightly this time as she looked over at him. Yasmine nodded to him, her face still slightly flushed.
“Good, well, food should be ready in about twenty minutes. Why don’t you go get changed out of your work clothes, and I will start setting the table and finishing supper?” Once again, Monty cared for her, pointed her in the right direction, and gave her this stupid warm feeling that was stronger than any kind of cold he might make her feel physically.
Yasmine nodded again before slowly peeling the blankets off of her body. She still looked a little cold, but that was probably just normal. The heater had been going for a while, so it was nice and toasty in the house at this point. So she made sure to pick up her purse, which she had simply tossed onto the floor yet again when she rushed inside. Hanging it up on a hook by the door, she headed for the hallway, stopping to peek into the kitchen.
“That smells good. Is it chicken noodle soup?” She asked curiously. It sounded pretty good right now, though maybe a little boring.
“Sorta, it's something along those lines, though with a small twist that seemed like it would taste good.” It was very hard to be a good chef when you couldn’t taste what you made. Instructions like season to taste always left an imaginary bitter taste in his mouth and the irony was not lost on the ghost. “Maybe you can help me taste test some new recipes I have stored away in my head later on?”
The suggestion itself was so innocent that there was no way anyone could twist it into anything but. So why was Yasmine suddenly imagining a shirtless Monty staring down at her while gently bringing a spoon to her mouth, commanding her to “Taste this?”
A shiver shot through the small brunette's body, and her heart thudded in her chest. She tried not to show how bad that random thought hit her, but it was kinda hard when he was right there in front of her.
“Uhh yeah, sure, that sounds good. I’m going to go get changed!” Yasmine said at just a slightly too loud volume before she turned and quickly started to walk down the hall towards her room, feeling the horrible shame burn her soul.
Monty watched Yasmine walk into her room, confused as to why she was in such a sudden hurry. He did notice her shiver again so he wrote it off as her still being cold. So, instead of worrying about it, he floated back into the kitchen and started to set the table and check on the soup to make sure everything was going as it should. The best he could do when it came to the flavor of the soup was to check the consistency and if it looked like it had enough pepper or other spices in it.
Yasmine let out a long groan that morphed into a stuttering whine as she flopped onto her bed, keeping her face buried into the comforter. Why was she like this? Why did she keep thinking of Monty as some adonis that would sweep her off her feet and use that rare commanding tone of his to taste his…
“Noooooooo!” She took a moment to flail about on the bed, trying to get all these stupid images out of his head. She had just spent an hour at the grocery store trying to avoid getting hit on or whatever. And now she was friggin’ fantasizing about Monty doing it? She couldn’t even see him! Why was he the one that was easiest to picture without clothes?
Yasmine knew she needed to think of something else, or she might end up doing something she might regret. She quickly tried to think of anything and everything to get her mind off the ghost.
“Grandpa, mom, dad, driving, work, elevators, Ethan…” It wasn’t until the last one that she felt her mind finally leave the Ghost making soup in her kitchen. Instead, she got another unpleasant shiver running through her body at the thought of being around her co-worker Ethan. That was another thing she needed to bring up at dinner. She mostly just wanted to complain about the man that she felt had the biggest effect on her fragile emotional state at work.
At the very least, it took her mind off Mon…Off him, off that person in the place with the food. It was now a desperate dance to avoid getting knocked right back to square one. With a deep breath, Yasmine got up from her bed and proceeded to get out of her work clothes and slip into some pajama pants and an oversized men’s shirt she bought for the sole purpose of being a sleep shirt. Some construction company’s logo were in the top corner of the shirt. Not that she cared at all what brand or company was on the shirt. She just wanted something she could walk around in braless and not have it be so noticeable.
She let out a sigh of contentment as she took her hair out of the twin braids and just let it hang loose. The smell of the rich soup was now even reaching back to her room. She was certain now that it wasn’t just a simple chicken noodle soup. It smelt kinda creamy and a little sweet. Whatever it was, her tummy rumbled in anticipation, and she salivated at the prospect of a nice, warm, home-cooked meal. One that she didn’t have to make! That was probably the best part of all of this.
Walking out of the room, she hurried down the hall and bounded into the kitchen. As she did, she saw the lid of the pot lifted and a metal spoon hanging over it, with a white, creamy looking substance running off it.
“Is it almost ready!?” Yasmine said excitedly, now more eager for food than what she was fretting about earlier. The spoon suddenly dropped into the soup, and the metal lid hanging slightly above fell and hit the pot's side, sending it clattering to the floor loudly. It made her flinch in surprise and wonder what the heck just happened. It was like Monty had just vanished right as she showed up.
“M-Monty, whats wrong? Are you still there?” A slight panic tinged her voice, but thankfully not for long as Monty did respond as he came to his senses.
“Oh, uhhh, yeah, I’m here… Oh shoot, I dropped my spoon into the soup!” The ghost had been preparing to have Yasmine taste the soup before serving it to her, but when she showed up in the t-shirt and obviously braless with how things… jiggled. He seemed to lose his cohesion, making the spoon and lid phase right through his ethereal fingers. This was going to be a lot harder than he initially thought things would be.