Truly Madly Ghostly

Chapter Twenty-nine: The Extending Parameter

Her half gasp, half scream tore through the night, and she couldn't tell if it was because of the instinctive fear of a killing fall (literally) or the astonishing thing that just took place right that very moment.

The feeling of a cold grip around her wet arm was, however, absolutely real.

Her stunned eyes were on Alex's face, staring into his eyes before they moved to settle on her pale hands clutching her arm—refraining from her fall. And it was colder than the cold night.

How!

Even Alex's eyes were wide in shock. However, without a word, he yanked her up.

"Alex!" she was panting. Safe and sound with the balcony floor beneath her feet now, she slipped down to a sitting position. "How!" She stammered, watching him kneeling in front of her simultaneously. "You—you held me—I—" she trailed off, yet still her mouth opened and closed a few times, not being able to process what just transpired. She lightly touched the skin on her arm where he had touched her and recalled the impossible moment.

He looked a bit dazed. "I've no idea, Char," he mumbled, snapping his eyes close tightly for a moment.

She noticed him reaching out for her again and waited with bated breath for the numbingly freezing touch that she could still starkly remember.

But it never came.

Like a wind had passed through her skin and bone, his hand went through her arm—in the same spot.

They both sat there for quite some time in confusion.

Minutes later, Charlotte was reclined inside her room, cocooned into her warm blankets, with the balcony door closed. She had changed into a dry set of pajamas—Alex had looked away like a gentleman but was always hovering around. He was perhaps still afraid that she would try any stunt like climbing on the railing or drowning in the bathtub.

Well, she wouldn't.

Feeling his touch for the first time was shocking, of course, as he basically had no solid body. But surprisingly, it was a swooning sort of thrill she felt the most. Their skins had made direct and solid contact for the first time.

"How?" She asked again despite him already clarifying that even he was befuddled.

"You were so warm," he commented instead with a faraway look.

"And you were ice cold," she added.

Death has touched life.

That was what Charlotte thought at that moment. But she would come to know later from Rebecca that it was death solidifying instead.

They tried to touch each other many times again after that day, and it would be a lie to say that they failed every single time. To be precise, what they wished for eventuated in some unintentional moments.

Her handsome ghost attempted to sulk some more even after it was established that he had forgiven her for trying to drive him away from the world and then wearing the necklace not to see him. Nevertheless, he seemed to slowly warm up as she worked her cuteness on him.

Mostly, that cuteness involved her normal daily activities. All unintentional.

Like—humming a song and swaying her body during cooking dinner. She walked all around the room with her textbook pasted in front of her eyes—studying. Drooling on the bedsheet. Crinkling her nose with a smile at the knowledge of his undercover presence in the corner of her apart.

And eventually, his sourness evaporated.

"I'm quite helpless in front of your consistent assaults to bring down all my walls, always," he declared gushing a long, defeated breath from his mouth. He was reclined like a statue—a piece of art in the corner of her room. His back was up against the wall and his usual overcoat's color a stark contrast to it.