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Creaks

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Chapter 12: Creaks (Spencer's POV)

I kept glancing over at her one the ride back to the castle. I was worried she would cry and then I'd have to handle her because she's my wife, which means she's my mess to take care of, which also means her problems are mine. And I already have my fucking problems, I don't need more. "Are you okay?" I asked. 

"I'm just angry," she said through gritted teeth, keeping her eyes focused on the view and trees we were passing by. "Is there anything I can break?" She huffed. 

I glanced at her, staring blankly. "No?" 

"Should I scream?" 

"Should you—" 

"I think I should." 

"No," I said quickly. "You shouldn't." 

She clenched her fists and I could see her nails digging into her palm. 

I eyed her, driving straight on the road. It's an empty road so I didn't have to worry about crashing the car into another one, but I was still looking ahead every so often. "Stand up," I suggested. 

She stopped clenching her fists and frowned at me in confusion, "What?" 

"Stand up. Hold onto the windshield. It's windy out tonight. Have yourself a titanic moment," I smirked. 

She stared at me, letting out a soft chuckle, "What?" 

"Go ahead," I nodded. 

"Really?" 

"Mm-hmm." 

She bent down, taking her heels off, and then gathered her dress, slowly standing up on the seat before holding onto the windshield. I brought up the roof, stopping it right behind her so she wouldn't fall backward either. She stood there like that, starting to laugh for absolutely no reason. 

I glanced up at her, letting out a soft chuckle before shifting gears and stepping harder on the gas, bringing more breeze towards us. Even my hair started blowing around. I looked up at her when she squealed, closing her eyes. 

Her hair was blowing wildly behind her, she had a huge grin on her face. She gasped and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the top of the windshield, and looked ahead. 

I slowed down the car as we approached the gates and then took us inside, parking beside my other car. I tilted my head up, my eyes meeting hers as she beamed down at me. "Better?" 

"Can we do that again?" 

"No, I cannot drive another hour, maybe another time. Get down." 

She sat down slowly, putting one hand on my shoulder, and put her heels back on as I pulled the roof all the way up before turning the car off. She ran her fingers through her hair before tucking it behind her ears. I pulled out the keys and then we both stepped out. She took another look around. "It's so quiet without all the guests around," she mumbled as I walked to the trunk and took out her bags. 

"You haven't even seen the inside. You think it's quiet out here?" I chuckled, setting her suitcase on its wheel and then locking up the car. 

"I can hold the—" 

I cut her off. "I'm carrying it." She followed me inside as we walked upstairs and I led her to the east wing, even though my room was in the west wing. I'm marrying her, but this is far from a real marriage. "If you can wait till tomorrow to completely unpack then Ms. Sunny can help you. You have everything else that you need, anything else you want from home, you can take Mr. Neil and Ms. Sunny will accompany you." I felt her looking at me. 

"Where will you be?" 

I didn't look back at her. "Home. With nothing to do." 

"Then why don't you take me?" 

I glanced over at her as we stopped in front of her room. "Okay," I nodded. "This is your room. My room is in the west wing, it's the last door in the—" 

"Your room is in the west wing?" 

"Yes." 

"Then why am I in the east wing?" 

I stared at her, not knowing what to say. 

"I'm not sleeping all the way here by myself. Your castle is very scary, I won't be able to get any sleep at all. At least let me sleep in a room near yours so if anything happens, I can..." She trailed off as we both turned to her which was slowly opening on its own with creaks coming from the hinges as well as the floorboard of her room. I turned to her while she stared inside. "I am most certainly not sleeping here." 

"It's windy," I shrugged. 

She deadpanned, "Inside your castle?" We heard another creek. "I'm not sleeping here, Spencer." 

"It's an old castle built in the 1700s, it creaks, Delilah." 

"I don't care," she said menacingly. "To the west wing, please." 

I turned around with a huff and started walking to the opposite hallway. 

"At least I'm not making you share a room with me," she scoffed. "Yet, anyway." 

"What do you mean 'yet' why would we share a room?" 

"You just said you were going to marry me. I don't think it's possible to do that if you can't even stand the thought of sharing a room with me." 

"It's not about standing the thought, it's simply unnecessary and impractical." 

She stared at me, her nose scrunching up. "Yes, that's unnecessary and impractical. A married couple sharing a room. Precisely that." 

"There's no need for it," I argued. 

"We won't be a normal married couple. We don't love each other, we barely like each other." 

"You can say it, Romano." 

I blinked at the name. "Don't call me that." 

"Fine. You can say it, Spencer. We secretly hate each other." 

"And why is that?" 

"Because you don't actually want to marry me but now you have to. And I don't want to marry you but now I have to. When two people who don't want to be with each other are forced to do just that, hatred is bound to breed in that relationship. It's math." 

"Science," I corrected. 

"Psychology, actually," she grinned as we stopped at the end of the hallway. 

I sighed, "This is my room." I pointed to the door on the right. "And this is yours." I pointed to the one on the left. "If anything happens at night, do not come to me. Just ignore it. They're only noises. Nobody bothers you unless you bother them first." 

"Did you just say nobody?" 

"There are ghosts and spirits here, Daisy. I told you. Just ignore them. Act like they don't exist and they won't do anything." 

"Can you give that to me in writing?" 

"No." 

Her eyes widened. 

"You'll be fine. Worst scenario, you wake up with a few scratches and whatnot. But this isn't a horror movie, you won't be levitating or thrown across the room, so relax. Just act like they don't exist." 

"Yeah... because that's easy to do on my first night here. Got it." 

"Go ahead. Good night." 

She mumbled it back before opening the door and taking her bags inside. 

I went into my room and changed immediately before brushing my teeth. I climbed into bed, feeling exhausted from the ball and the preparations we did. I closed my eyes and tried going to sleep. I was almost asleep when I heard a thud. I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling. That sounded like something fell over in her room. I told her this place was haunted, she even believed me. She was prepared, she shouldn't be this horrified. Another ten minutes went by of pin-drop silence. Then I heard multiple things clattering before my door slammed open. I sighed in frustration, propping myself onto my elbows. "I told you not to come to me." 

"Things are flying!" 

"What?" 

"A book fell off the desk, old hairpins fell off the vanity, my earrings fell off the nightstand too! I am not sleeping there!" 

"You don't have anywhere else to sleep. Find a room where fewer experiences happen to you." 

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

"A room you're comfortable in." 

She rolled her eyes. "How can I be comfortable in any room when doors are opening and things are flying?" 

"Falling. The items fell, they didn't fly." 

"It's the same thing," she deadpanned. 

"What do you want me to do for you, Delilah?" 

"Let me sleep here." 

"No." 

"I'll sleep on the floor." 

"No." 

"You won't even know I'm here." 

"No." 

"Spencer!" She shut the door and walked over, standing at the foot of the bed. "I don't like being alone where scary things like that happen. Nobody does." 

"I do." 

"You don't like it, you're used to it. Nothing's flying around here, let me sleep here, please? You can sleep there." 

"This is my room." 

"Well, what's mine is yours, honey." She lifted a brow at me. "Till death do us part, remember? Give me a pillow." 

"No." 

She ignored me and walked to the other side. "Give me a pillow or I'll just climb in bed. I'm not leaving once I do that." 

"You're not leaving anyway." 

"Spencer!" 

"Delilah," I said mockingly. 

"Please?" She whined, stomping her foot. 

"No," I repeated. 

She glowered at me. I looked at her clothes since she had changed out of the dress. She had on a black fitted t-shirt with light pink flannel pajamas. She looks like a little girl, it's almost adorable. She climbed on the bed and then lay down, turning her back to me. 

I used my foot and pushed her legs off the bed. 

"Fuck off, please," she mumbled. 

"Get out of my bed, Delilah." 

"No." 

"Delilah Celeste." 

"Spencer Romano," she mocked. 

"Leave," I demanded. 

She rolled over, staring at me. "Make me." 

I stared at her, my eyes flicking between hers. I've had a lot of people tell me they like my eyes. But I don't like them. They're exactly like my mother's were, it's a constant reminder that she's gone. I do, however, like Delilah's eyes. They're brown. Light brown eyes, which seemed to captivate me every time. Every time. Because once I look at her, I can't look away. Light brown eyes always have so many subtle hues of gold and hazel, and I was lucky enough to see them all in hers. I was lucky enough to meet her and have her help. I should be a little nicer, shouldn't I? 

"I'm not sleeping in a room with ghosts." 

"There are ghosts in every room here," I replied. 

"Even this one?" 

I nodded. 

She fell very quiet as if she was anticipating another thud or crash. For something to be knocked over or fly in this room too. "What happened here?" she whispered. 

"I don't think you would like that story, especially when you're sleeping here," I sighed, rolling onto my side and facing her. 

There was a soft click as if someone tapped a nail on my vanity. She closed her eyes tightly, absentmindedly scooting closer to me. The tapping continued, getting a little louder each time. She let out a small yelp, pulling the covers up to her chin as she moved even closer to me. The tapping stopped just as her body touched mine. She froze and opened one eye, then the other, staring up at me. Every inch of hers was touching, pressed up, flush against every inch of me. She was lying lower than me, which meant the top of her head barely reached my chin when in reality, she barely reached my chest. "It's too scary here," she whispered. "I want to leave." 

"What are you afraid of? They don't do any harm." 

"I'm scared of seeing something I'm not prepared to see." 

"You won't see anything. They don't like dancing under the moonlight, don't worry," I smirked. 

"Spencer," she hissed. There was a faint sound of something being dragged. She whimpered, clutching my shirt in her first and putting her head against my chest. 

I looked over her and saw my hairbrush moving just an inch on the vanity. I sighed, rolling my eyes.

  Please just shut up for one night. For her first night, just go away! Get out of here, for fuck's sake! 

I repeated that in my head a few times. Then the brush stopped moving. Nothing moved or creaked for the rest of the night, but she was so scared that she refused to let me go. And she fell asleep holding onto me for dear life.   

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Chapter 12

I'm dreading online school starting again, y'all

I hope it's not as bad this time

next chapter: fits