_________________
Rosalie POV (Sal)
The 3rd of December, 1956
Bright winter sunlight captured my room on the following December morning. With one leg outside of my duvet, I felt the cool breeze of my open window. Each surface lit up with the promise of a true sunny winter day, where it didn't give off heat but rather gave a cold winter day the reminiscence of warmth. You pictured being ten, getting up too early for the early birds, putting on gloves, thick jackets, and heavy winter boots to run off to meet friends to go sleighing. Now only a bleak memory, winter sensations brought you back to those days.
«Sal?» I heard Elvis's soft voice call for me right at the other side of my bedroom door. Too tired to recognize Elvis' voice or remember I'd been awake, I let out a displeased noise.
A small crack opened at my door, framing Elvis's facial features. His eyes were light as the colors of winter, and his silky locks dark as a winter night, making him stand out from my white door and dirty pink walls.
Widening my gaze, my eyes sprung up at the site of him. «I'm not dressed,» I exclaimed, pulling the duvet as close to my face as quickly as I possibly could.
Elvis chuckled before widening the opening of the door. «Lord, it's freezing here, Sal! Do you want to get sick?» Elvis said jokingly, but if truth be told, I could tell he got annoyed with me. Marching across my room, he closed my window shut with the old creaking sound that had been there since the dawn of time.
«Elvis, did you even hear what I said?» I said, raising my hand to my forehead as I closed my eyes to bathe in a moment of tired annoyance.
«Yeah yeah, I've seen you in a bathing suit, girly. Pajamas are hardly more revealing than that.» His smirk turned infectious as he gifted me a nonchalant look not comparable to me—bluntly staring at him as my closed-eyes moment passed. Lowering my hand, I watched him make himself comfortable, casually leaning against my window frame. His arms hung loosely while his hands moved to cup the edges of the white window frames, supporting himself. His black sweater reflected in the surface of the glass right behind him, accompanying one of Patty's glass paintings painted directly on the surface of the glass—from a time were Patty could not stop painting. She had been fourteen, and hers was beautiful, botanical, and detailed. Next to it, though, I'd painted a cat face with whiskers looking more like a sun with floating ufos above it. Patty patted my back, laughing to the point of tears, saying all cats needed a home, and my sun-space cat was the luckiest of them all.
Moving my eyes from the painting, leaving the trip down memory lane, one of my eyes squinted at him. He was unbelievable but right. Sliding out of bed dressed in cute soft pink shorts and a singlet, Elvis still looked everywhere but me.
Out of sight, Elvis's voice again filled the room as I reached my closet to open the heavy, dark, streaky wooden vintage doors to find something to change into.
«Listen,» He said, almost absorbed in thoughts. «I have to head out to a studio session with The Million Dollar Quartet tomorrow, but... I thought we could spend the day together. What do you say?» He asked, undoubtedly eager for me to give him a yes to his proposition but anxiously awaiting my decline. I guess he wasn't too sure of himself after my confession yesterday.
With my dress close to my chest, I closed the closet doors to meet his eyes—popping into view as I no longer was hidden within reach of my clothes. Difficult to read, his eyes flickered while mine were remorseful.
«I would love to,» I said affectionately. Almost on cue, Elvis's whole body relaxed as he leaned against the window. A soft smile takes the place of his previous unexplainable expression.
◌ ◌ ◌
«Letting that boy in her room! I don't know what's going through your mind, Minnie!» My dad howled at my mom with the base of his voice coming from the living room as Elvis and I tiptoed through the hall light at feet in thick socks dampening each possible creak of the old apartment's floor. Effortlessly, I could picture him sitting in his worn-out leather chair, his old black smoking pipe between his lips, while my mom stood with crossed arms over her comfortable round stomach—hand to forehead.
After the unbelievable act of getting two pairs of shoes on and Elvis throwing the red scarf at me because I whispered it wouldn't be that cold, having yet to be heard—I opened the door.
As we were about to escape unseen, Elvis turned his head in the direction of my parents's voices. «She was decent! I swear!» He yelled with the biggest grin plastered on his goofy face.
«Elvis!» I yelled.
As mortified as I felt, I could not imagine my dad's coming heart attack after that one. Flabbergasted, both my hands locked his arm in mine, whisking him away from the disaster that would play out with my dad. Running with each step echoing loudly down the stairs, shoving Elvis in front of me, he laughed until he was out of breath.
As the cold and crisp air hit us, Elvis bent down with his hands at his knees—coughing from being unable to breathe, all while still grinning more than any other in the whole town of Madison.
«You fool!» I shouted at him, both infuriated and amused. Elvis' laughing fit getting worse in response, ticked me off as I had no remorse left for the boy. Shooting my arm out to the right side of me, a caught-of-guard Elvis got knocked down to a shoveled pile of snow. Like a tornado, powdered snow flew onto his red face—developed from his ongoing laborious laughter.
As I tried to step back, afraid of his reaction, the boy stretched his body. His hands snatched me by the waistband of my coat, and the next thing I knew, I was down in the snow with him—covering his black coat with mine, knocking the air out of both of us.
He laughed, throwing his head back, and I simply couldn't hold it in any longer as I let my laugh fill the space between our noses, turning a blooming pink from the shock of the cool temperature. With my hair and coat covered by snowflakes, Elvis humorously started wiping it off my shoulder before turning on his side so that I laid next to him. When we finally had no more laughter to give, I got awfully aware of his closeness. A warm sentiment threatened to take hold of me as his blue mirrored my blue eyes. Pushing it down, I cleared my throat.
«So... What's going on with June?» I strived to ask him, avoiding his eyes as mine fell to the blinding snow—distractingly.
«Oh... Well... I... I forgot her birthday.» He hopelessly confessed with the palm of his hand covering half his face.
«You did not?» I asked, glaring at him in disbelief. How could these girls cling to him when he treated them like this? The whole thing was just bizarre, but as his hand lowered, looking into those very captivating eyes of his and the kind smile placed on his lips, I knew there was a chance I would forgive everything he ever did.
It scared me to death.
_________________
Author's note:
Are you scared for Sal too?
What are your thoughts on this chapter? How are you finding Earnest Wood, and do you think he is right in judging Elvis or is he too overprotective of his daughter?
And... The boy forgot his girlfriend's birthday. Ouch. I've only heard the story from June's perspective in her documentary about their relationship. She talked of him not calling, but who knows if Elvis forgot or decided not to call her—apparently, he was at a premiere of something. As both Sal and comments have said, Elvis has a lot of growing up to do.
(I'm sorry for being an obnoxious giggling mess last chapter; chapter 17 just puts a spell on me ✨🙈)
(Chapter 18/64)
This chapter is slightly edited with Grammarly.
_________________
YOU ARE READING
Girl of Mine
Fanfiction1956. A girl in the crowd is proposed to by her boyfriend in front of Elvis. It would be a lovely moment if it weren't for the three other girls he also dated. All of them were present at the same time and place, just after Elvis' concert. As the dr...
