The Letter [Elvis]

Chapter 1 - Delivering the Letter

Here's another Elvis fanfic! It's a cute little teen romance story that has our favorite star in it, but before he became famous. It's my first pre-fame Elvis story. Enjoy!

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My heart thundered inside of me as I stood in front of his locker as my little letter was pressed against my chest. Never in my life had I done something so bold and... stupid. But I wanted him to know how I felt about him. I didn't sign the letter or mentioned my name. Just the fact that he knew of the feelings in my heart was enough.

The bell would ring for class to end any minute, and people would be pouring out of the classrooms, including him. I asked to use the restroom to do this, just as an excuse to get out into the hallway when no one was around, so I had to do it, to make good use of this time. I never just left class since I was one of those rare kids who liked being in class.

I pressed my lips together, building my courage. I lifted the letter that I had in a square pink envelope and slipped it in. Breath escaped me, almost draining me of my energy since my nerves took up most of my energy as I was planning this for the past couple of weeks.

The bell rang. I scurried away from his locker as the hallway filled with kids my age. Well, most of them were younger than me since I was a senior. What a way to end my high school career—giving a love letter to the boy my heart beat for over the past four years. I hid around a corner and watched his locker. He came to it along with his couple of guy-friends.

"Oh, boy, he's so handsome..."

In my opinion, he was the most handsome boy in the whole school, and he had such a unique name and kind heart. He played guitar and sang, too, since I had seen and heard him do it in the school yard since he moved to Memphis about four-and-a-half years ago. That was when I started liking him.

He opened his locker, and out fell my letter. I held in a gasp as I watched him pick it up off the floor and look at it with creased brows.

"What do you think this is?" he asked his two friends, and one of them said to open it. He did so, and as he looked at it, his brows rose. His friends went nuts.

"Oh, wow, some girl really is hot for ya, Elvis! Let me read through it again."

He did so, but out loud, and Elvis snatched it away and put it in the pocket of his short-sleeved blue shirt that was tucked into his tan slacks. "Hey, will ya not do that, Danny, huh?" he demanded. "This is really personal. Do you have any idea how much guts it took for this girl to slip this into my locker? Show 'er some respect."

I smirked at that, touched. He was such a nice guy. Along with how handsome he was and his guitar playing and singing, his kindness was how I fell for him so hard. Other girls probably liked him. He didn't have a girlfriend at the moment, so I had to act fast before he got one. I would reveal myself... at some point.

The three boys started walking my way, and I hid behind the corner as they passed. Elvis's other friend said, "Do you think someone sent this for Dixie? She has friends in this school."

Dixie Locke, the pretty girl who went to a different high school, but I had seen talking with Elvis in the diner a few blocks away. I honestly didn't know if Elvis liked her, he was just being nice when he was talking to her. I heard him say once that he wasn't interested in going steady with any girls since his heart was still hurting from breaking up with Jonell Johnson, a girl who went to our school and was a sophomore. She never talked to him, so he kept his distance. Honestly, I thought her a fool for letting him go, but at the same time, I was happy that it made him available.

"I doubt it," said Elvis to what his friend said. The boys' conversation faded in the noisy hallway as they walked off, and I watched them go. I scurried on to my history class, the same class that Elvis was heading to. Since we were both seniors, we shared a few of the same classes. Thankfully, he sat in a seat behind me in all of the classes we shared. If he was in view, I wouldn't be able to focus. I did that on purpose—sat in front of him all the time.