#exhilarating

[htn-11-11]

Summer details : 🩵🍒

#11:11

[dearestb-x]

𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑤 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑦 ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑.

𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑠: 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, 𝐴𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑒, 𝑠𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑦, 𝑠𝑎𝑟𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑚, 𝑗𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑠ℎ, 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘, 𝐴𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑏 𝑐𝑢𝑧 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑠𝑜

𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑐 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝐼'𝑚 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 (𝑡𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑏ℎ) 𝑠𝑜 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 🥹

𝑆𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑒 - 𝑟ℎ𝑐𝑝

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You and Arthur make it to an old abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere after being pursued by bounty hunters for numerous hours. And although that being caught by said bounty hunters would most likely mean you and Arthur's death, it was thrilling to run from them, the wind blowing on your face as you nudged angel to keep her in a sprint, the way you and Arthur rushed to send the horses on their way and to scurry inside the cabin, it felt freeing, exhilarating.

"I am absolutely exhausted..." You groan, clutching your ribs as you gasp for air. Arthur tilts his head back as he gasps for air himself. You lower yourself onto the ground, away from any windows or open doors, Arthur eventually does the same, taking a seat next to you, a bit closer than usual.

"I reckon they'll be looking around so we should stay quiet for now." Arthur whispers, or attempts to as it comes out more as a growl than a whisper. You nod in agreement and purely focus on catching your breath. "Well, I must say. It was quite exciting to run from them.." you admit, flashing a cheeky smirk at Arthur, who is now staring at you, not saying anything.

"If the promise of death is exciting to you then... You're a bit odd don't 'ya think?" He chuckles, raising an eyebrow. "You know I didn't mean it like that..." You roll your eyes, snickering to yourself.

-

A few hours pass by and the sun has set, leaving the moon to be a light source.

"I think we should stay here tonight, I mean. We barely know this area as is, who knows what animals are waiting out there..." You mumble, taking a peek outside the withered wooden window. "I agree... I'll stay on lookout, you get some rest." Arthur says caringly, his eyes still glued to the outside, as if he's avoiding looking at you. "No, I can stay up. It's fine." You protest, furrowing your brows, and plus, you weren't feeling that tired anyways, all the more reason for you to stay up.

"Fine. But stay alert." Arthur groans, the way he rolled his eyes being audible. You smirk and keep your eyes scanning the treeline, watching out for any movement or sounds that seem out of place.

-

Nothing happens, so you and Arthur begin talking to each other. Sharing funny stories from when you were both young, gossiping about camp, and finally, the conversation had swiftly changed to the topic of feelings.

"I mean, I've only ever had two boyfriends before... One when I was a rebellious teenager, and one in my first year of running from the law" - "he ratted on me, so that didn't end too well." You admit, playing with a rock you found on the floor. Arthur's eyes scan yours for a few moments, before he looks back at the wall Infront of him, letting out a long sigh. "I actually almost got married once, I was too bad for her. Then I had a woman and son that I failed to make enough time for, they got robbed and killed, all for ten dollars." Arthur confesses, your eyes soften as he talks, feeling greatly sympathetic for his past situations.

"I'm so sorry Arthur, I never knew. That's horrible..." You apologise, placing a warm hand on his, trying to tell him that you'll be there for him when he needs it. "Thanks, y/n, I appreciate it." - "but, I can't do anything about it now. I gotta learn how to move on, no matter how troubling it is." He pauses, shifting his line of sight to you, a barely visible smirk plastered on his face.

"And-" - "And I think I've found someone that makes everyday easier for me..." He continues, his eyes glistening as he admires your features. You catch the hint immediately, but you stay silent, unable to form words that make sense, unable to form a sentence that'll tell him you feel the same. Because truthfully, you feel the exact same way, everyday you spend with Arthur, you feel at ease, as if you've finally found someone that you can relate to on a certain level.

"I said something stupid didn't I?" - "I remain a fool..." He mumbles, but you gently shush him as you place your palm on the back of his neck, pulling him into a slow, and gentle kiss. Arthur doesn't pull away, instead, he rests one of his hands on your thigh, and the other on your waist. Feeling for anywhere he could feel your warmth.

The kiss feels like forever as your soft lips remain cushioned against his.

Arthur shifts the hand on your waist to your cheek, wiping soft patterns on your skin. You gently shuffle closer to him, still keeping your lips on his. Now that your chest is nearly pressing against Arthur's, he places both hands on your waist as you shift both of yours to hang around his neck. At this point you're practically on top of Arthur, but that doesn't last for long before he gently lays you down on the ground, refusing to remove his lips from yours.

He keeps one leg in between yours, and the other resting to the side, you do the same. He trails his veiny hand down your side, tracing your subtle curves and soft skin as your shirt lifts slightly from all the movement. You place your open palm on his chest, and you use your other hand to play with his hair. Arthur keeps one hand pressed onto the floor to the side of your head the whole time as he kisses you softly, it sort of amazes you how such a rough, and dangerous man like Arthur could be so gentle, and caring with the woman he liked, as if you were a porcelain doll that he cherished to make sure you didn't break or fall apart.

Just as you start feeding more into the kiss, Arthur gently pulls away, giving you a kiss on the forehead and wiping a strand of hair away from your face before he rests on his side on the floor beside you. "Well, how about that." He says sarcastically, his eyes still stuck to yours. "You're a tease.." you scoff, a small giggle hidden underneath. "If I kept going I might've passed out.." Arthur says, taking a deep breath in, you decide to play his joking game, you turn on your side to face him.

"Because I'm so beautiful, I know.." you joke, resting your eyes shut as tiredness begins takes control of your body. Arthur hums in reply and gives you another kiss on the forehead before he rests against the wall behind him, falling asleep shortly after.

-

𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡 😞

[sonadaofsilence]

Over looking the city. It's liberation to feel the possibilities of unsuspecting eyes.

Your Auntie N has her non bashful moments

[dinosaurwithablog]

It's 80°+ outside, and the sun is shining so I took a long ride in my '67 Firebird convertible with the top down, of course!!! I had a blast!! Yeehaw!! I learned that I can go from 0-60 in under 3 seconds!! I am so happy and filled with joy from all the endorphins that ride released into my bloodstream!! I feel sooooooo good right now. This is the best medicine in the world for me!! I'm doing it again tomorrow and the next day and the day after that for as long as this weather stays beautiful 😍😁🤗🥰 it felt great to get some air in my hair!!

[senku-ishigami-official]

//I guess this wld have to be an ooc question bc um,, timelines and all that. But what did you think of the Artemis II?!!

//EEEEK IM WATCHING THE NEWS RN. SO COOL. I MISSED THE ACTUAL LAUNCH BUT ITS OK I'LL WATCH IT LATER

He's talking right now about what it feels like to be launched into space and I'm literally about to launch myself it's so insanely cool I'm so excited

Idea of a "permanent human presence" on the moon is kinda crazy though idk. BUT YAAAAAAY ROCKETS

[ojamajoprincess]

borat voice: MY WIFE

[transport-methodology-101]

The French use their AMC Pacer for stomping rights!.

[heartbreak-hotel-35]

Backstage

Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

I don’t know how I’d managed to be a part of the live audience. I’d fallen in love with Elvis Presley on that chilly January night. Sitting in awe on the set of the Ed Sullivan show. What I didn’t expect though, was one of the stage managers stopping me in exiting crowd and saying those seven exhilarating words:

“Elvis Presley has requested to meet you.”

• •—•• •••— •• •••

I stared down at the invitation in my trembling hand. The cursive lettering at the top jumping out at me for the thousandth time.

You have been randomly selected…

I read it over and over, pulling my coat around me tighter as I walked. The words were bouncing around my brain. There was something about them that almost made me feel like it wasn’t random at all. I didn’t know how choosing live audiences for shows happened, but, no way it happened like this. Right?

I was just a girl, out of school for a year, just started a little job at a nearby boutique. A girl whose parents wanted nothing to do with the name or idea of Elvis Presley. Yet, here I was, walking down the road, the setting sun ahead of me, only causing the chill in the air to intensify.

January winters were cruel. The cold bit at my cheeks and nose, turning them a shade of pink. But I pressed on, gripping the small paper in my hand and holding my coat closed in the other.

I told my parents that I was going to a friend’s house. I’d never done anything out of line, so they had no reason to doubt that was what I was doing. I walked along, watching as my breaths formed small clouds in front of me. As I continued on, I noticed there was a small crowd of people forming around me.

I looked at the faces, seeing blush and lipstick of various shades. Then the sound of excitement approached, pulling my attention to the left a bit. The tapping of heels against the sidewalk, some slow and some quick, encircled me. There was the studio, the words,

‘The Ed Sullivan Show! Tonight : ELVIS PRESLEY’

were spelled out in black letters on the big, white letter board. My heart skipped a beat reading them. I exhaled a shaky breath, another puff forming in front of me.

That’s when the pushing started. Someone bumped my right shoulder. Then into my left. The eager whispers growing to loud chatter. I held my ground, moving forward and crossing the street to get over to the studio doors. As I neared, I began to hear a man’s voice trying to retain order.

“Ladies! Ladies, please!” He shouted. I could only see the man’s hands poking over the heads of those in the front of the group. “Ladies!” He bellowed, finally ceasing the talking.

“And, and gentleman. Excuse me.” He muttered, embarrassed. He just adjusted his collar and cleared his throat. “Now! Mr. Sullivan’s show will be airing in approximately forty-five minutes. If you could please form a line down the brick wall to your right, we will be checking tickets and guiding you inside.” Everyone began frantically shuffling toward the wall, standing behind one another in a not so orderly fashion.

I waited until everyone in front of me dispersed before I moved at all. Then I walked, rubbing my nose and relaxing my shoulders against my jacket. I snuck into the line, being careful not to break up any parties that may have been together. As I stood, I noticed almost of half of the crowd had walked away. I quirked a brow, thinking silently as to why they left. The line moved forward a bit and then it clicked. They didn’t have tickets.

Pride tried to snake its way into my heart. But I was quick to snuff it out, looking up at the dark blue sky and admiring the light dusting of stars and fresh snowflakes. I silently thanked God for this opportunity, rubbing the ticket between my thumb and index finger. We moved forward again, and the chatter picked up again. Girls around me were using each other’s pocket mirrors to check their hair and makeup. I toyed with the edges of my baby pink skirt, making sure the petticoat underneath wasn’t showing.

There were about three people ahead of me now, handing their tickets over and scurrying inside to escape the cold and enter a whole new realm of heat. Before I knew it, it was my turn. I handed the man my ticket, and folded my hands neatly in front of me.

“How are you this evening?” He asked, adjusting his glasses. I shrugged and huffed a short laugh.

“Just fine thank you. It’s hot out today don’t you think?” I asked playfully, pulling my jacket up on my shoulders. He laughed, tearing the bottom piece from the paper and dropping it into the basket beside him.

“Extremely.” He replied, passing the invite back to me. “Enjoy the show, young lady!” I gave him a grateful nod and walked through the doors to my left. I was instantly hit with a wave of warmth, causing me to relinquish my coat, revealing my white and pink floral patterned off shoulder top that I’d paired with my skirt. I walked through the lobby of the studio, gazing at all the pictures of past guests on the walls. Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. Eartha Kitt, Al Bernie, and even a photo of Elvis from last year.

I walked over to it, the crowd blurring into nothing behind me as I stared. My eyes travelled along his figure, admiring his plaid patterned suit jacket and light colored hair. His bright white smile was totally infectious, causing my own smile to form. Those eyes. Even in black and white his stare was so intense and yet so soft. My stomach flipped as I leered, feeling as though he might suddenly jump out of the frame. He just looked so alive.

I pressed the back of my hand to my cheek, feeling for any signs of a blushing heat. Then I snapped back to reality, remembering that the boy in the photo would soon be only a few feet in front of me. This thought was the one that got my feet moving again and I quickly rejoined the crowd, baby-stepping toward the studio’s show floor and seating area. I played with a loose thread on my coat which was draped over my arm, looking around mindlessly and taking mental photos of this whole excursion.

We came up to another threshold supported by another set of double doors. There was a large black sign with white lights reading, ‘Studio A’. I licked my lips, reading over the sign as many times as I could before walking through the propped open doors. As soon as I was inside, the energy in the room hit me like a truck. The voices, the giggling, the shuffling of people in their seats.

When the people walking in front of me had cleared, I saw the set. The large camera waiting patiently for its operator and talent. The instruments set up neatly in a line. The lone microphone in the center. The sight of it sucked my breath away. Then I saw the music note backdrop and the circled platforms placed strategically on the floor. It was all invigorating.

I checked my ticket stub, looking for a seat number. C5. It practically hovered off of the paper in its bold lettering. I turned my attention back to the seats, looking behind me at the seats further away from the set. But then I saw that they were getting deeper into the alphabet. E, F, G, climbing all the way up. My eyes widened at my sudden realization. I was only two rows back from the first.

So I started moving again, saying scattered, ‘excuse me’s and sorry’s’ as I descended the stairs to my seat. Once I found the ‘C’ row, I scooted past those who were already seated, and found mine, draping my folded coat over the back and sitting down. This was it. This was what I would see in my memory for years to come. Every time I could tell my story, this is the image that would flash through my mind.

I was sitting just to the right of the camera, the microphone perfectly in view. No doubt allowing its handler to be perfectly in frame for me. I exhaled deeply letting it all sink in as I waited for this supposed, “delinquent” to walk out for his performance. I looked around, noticing that most of the women were wearing reds or blacks, shorter more revealing dresses. I began to wonder if I should have worn something different.

But I sat up straighter, choosing to be confident in what I’d chosen. After all, I was here to see, not be seen. Suddenly, a loud voice on the speaker system above us boomed, giving us an update on the show’s progress.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, as you are finding your seat, please be aware that tonight’s show will be airing in approximately five minutes. We request that you are seated and comfortable by the time those minutes are up. Thank you, and have a wonderful evening.” The voice sounded near robotic, almost like the ones I’d heard on the radio before. Everyone’s excited chatter had turned into hushed whispers. The last few people in the crowd were finally finding their seats.

The lights over the audience had dimmed slightly, and a spotlight shone directly on the microphone on the set. A man with a headset over his balding head and a clipboard clutched tightly in his left arm walked out, side stepping as to keep his eyes on us.

“Ladies and gentlemen if I could have your attention please!” The man said, flipping the microphone attached to his headset up. The crowd was quick to be silent, listening intently to what he had to say. “I’m very pleased to welcome you here to be a part of Mr. Sullivan’s show tonight. I just have one job for you all if that’s alright?” He asked, glancing nervously at the watch around his wrist. There were a few scattered yes’s from the people around me.

“Alright. So we have these signs back here, one to my left and one to my right. Bill, hit it!” He called, pointing to someone behind us. Suddenly, the two signs he’d mentioned lit up in bright red lettering, reading, ‘APPLAUSE’.

“Throughout Mr. Presley’s performance, these will light up. We need you to do just that. Clap until they turn off. Can everyone do that?” He called out. I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes fixed on the microphone behind him.

“We won’t need those!” A girl in the back right yelled. The crowd erupted with laughter and excited giggles. The man who’d been talking to us hunched over in laughter.

“Alright, alright. Please try to refrain from clapping when the sign is off. I know you’re all excited, but Mr. Presley needs to fill this time slot with his whole act. We can’t be taking any unnecessary breaks. Understood?” He asked us all again, looking at his watch again. We all answered yes, and he gave us a thumbs up, quickly scurrying off behind the curtain again.

After he was fully out of sight, all the house lights turned completely off, and the spotlight relocated to the curtain the man had just disappeared behind. The room was dead silent. No one dared move an inch. The air was thick, humming with nerves. My right knee began to bounce nervously, knowing it was almost time. Another man came out from behind a separate curtain and walked straight to the camera, taking his seat beside it and pressing various button.

My heart was racing and my eyes began to water at the tension. There was a drumroll, one I’d recognized from the opening of all of Mr. Sullivan’s shows. The same robotic voice from before was next, announcing the opening of the show.

“And now, we’d like to introduce to you, your host for the evening. Mr. Ed Sullivan!” It said. The applause signs lit up, and the audience clapped on cue. Mr. Sullivan walked out from behind the black curtains, smiling and waving out to the crowd. He took a short bow as he landed on his mark, just in front of the microphone.

“Friends! I hope you’re all having a wonderful evening here in the studio or there at home. We have wonderful show planned for you tonight. Starting with our opening act. Some say he’s a rebel. An angel or a devil? We’re not quite sure. But now it gives me enormous pleasure to welcome for the third time on our show, Mr. Elvis Presley!” Mr. Sullivan announced. But his words were all jumbled together in my mind as I stared longingly at the curtain. He bowed again and stepped to the side, turning his attention toward the very same curtain.

Then out he came. Dressed in a long sleeve flow-y silver shirt, covered with a glittering vest. He was dazzling. Completely other worldly. All I could do was stare and clap mindlessly as he bowed his head in various directions, throwing up his hand in a near timid hello.

“Howdy friends.” Elvis said, taking hold of the microphone in his right hand. I watched his fingers run along the ridged edges of it, taken captive by the way he moved. “Thank you all for coming out. Or, or staying in.” He nodded toward the camera with that glowing smile I’d only ever seen in pictures. The very same one I’d grown familiar with while pasting his pictures in my secret scrapbooks.

“We’re gonna do a song for ya, right now. We just released it on record a few weeks ago.” He told us, glancing back at the band who was ready behind him. I had to clench my jaw, making sure I had not been staring open-mouthed. Then the band struck a few chords and Elvis jumped into action, singing his heart out in a way I’d only ever dreamed of. He began singing ‘Don’t Be Cruel’, I song I’d grown to love.

The way he sang and moved made me feel as though it was only him and I in the room. Like the words were chosen specially for me and no one else. I glanced around, looking at the other girl’s faces. They were no doubt feeling the same way I was. How Elvis managed to make an entire audience of women feel as though they were the only ones for him, I had no idea.

He continued on, gyrating in that dangerously beautiful way, slinging his arm around to the beat and singing along. His eyes were so expressive, widening anytime he saw fit. Even from where I was sitting, I could tell they were glazed over, like he was in some kind of temporary trance. The song came to an end, and we all erupted in cheers and applause, long before the signs flashed the silent command.

“Thank ya.” He huffed, folding his hands nervously over his stomach. “Thank y’all.” The clapping began to die off and Elvis waited, his right foot tapping, bending his knee constantly. I gazed at him, admiring his features and the way they sparkled in the spotlight. My heart was in my throat but I remained composed, twiddling my thumbs in my lap.

As I looked over his face again, I froze, realizing that his gaze had landed on me. Or, maybe on me? My eyes danced between his, straining to see if he was truly looking at me. Then he nodded once, shooting me a small smile. He was looking at me. I saw the girl to my right lean forward, looking harder at Elvis and then at me with a disgusted look.

But I didn’t care. I was honed in totally on him. Elvis’ eyes rested on mine just a little longer, but in that moment, it felt like an eternity. Then he turned his attention back to the microphone and I sucked in a breath. It was like his stare deprived me of oxygen.

“Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen. I-I’d do another one for ya, but Mr. Sullivan told me that he just can’t afford that much time.” He said playfully, chuckling slightly. We laughed along with him. His gaze darted to me again in a flash. I nearly jerked backwards. The crowd died down again, waiting on him to finish.

“So, sadly, I’ll have to go for now. But I hope to see y’all at some other shows we’ve got in the works.” He said, waving out to the audience. He took one step to his right and waved one last time, this time looking right at me, nodding once more. I smiled wide, hesitant to raise my own hand for fear that he wasn’t looking at me.

But it fluttered up nonetheless and I could’ve sworn his eyes sparkled, the corners of them creasing with his smile. Then, as fast as he’d come out, he was gone, taking the spotlight with him. We were sat in the near dark, clapping in the dim glow of red from the ‘applause’ signs. They turned off after a moment more and the spotlight returned, revealing Ed Sullivan back on his mark, bowing and smiling like before.

“Thank you for joining us for this segment of our show, folks. Stay tuned for another special guest right after this.” He said, pointing to the camera. The little red tally light on the camera switched off and the camera man clapped once, hopping off of his stand and leaving the set.

“Thank you folks! I believe we’re switching crowds for the next segment. I hope you all have a a wonderful evening and I hope to see you again!” Mr. Sullivan announced, leaving the set in nothing less than a hurry. People around me began to stand up, gathering their belongings and walking to the right of the room. I was still frozen in place, attempting to process the last forty five minutes.

The walk here. Getting in. The photos on the wall in the lobby. The set. Elvis Presley. The fact that Elvis Presley had looked directly at me. No, zeroed in, stealing my breath away. It was all magical. Something that seemed so far out of my reach. Yet, here I was.

I looked around, still in a daze, realizing that I was one of only a few people left in the studio. Only then did I stand, scooping my coat up and making my way toward the exit doors that had been propped open. As I walked down the stairs, a whole new crowd poured in through the doors above, just as we had an hour before. I watched for a moment, noticing that this time it was more men than women.

Just as I was about to step through the exit doors, a man that was standing by the door, dressed head to toe in black held out his hand to stop me.

“Just one moment, ma’am.” He said flatly. I halted, my stomach dropping low. Was I in trouble? I looked up at him, watching his eyes scan the people leaving from behind me. The chill from outside started to make me shiver, adding to the worry of the pause. The man looked back down at me, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Elvis Presley has requested to meet you.” He said casually. My heart stopped. I nearly choked on my breath. I shook my head, certain that I had misheard his statement.

“M-me?” I asked, pointing to myself like a damn fool. I shook my head at myself, still at a loss for coherent words.

“Yes ma’am. Would you like to meet him?” He asked, as though something on my face was saying no.

“O-of course. So long as you’re telling the truth.” I replied, joking with him nervously. The man’s shoulders relaxed, chuckling at my joke.

“I am. Right this way.” He said, stepping to the side and gesturing to the curtains. My heart jumped in my chest. The way the breeze from outside brushed through the black fabric. If there was a visual example of ‘winds of change’ this was it. I stepped forward, following closely behind the man as he pulled the curtain back, tilting his head forward.

“You’re just going to walk straight through here. Keep walking until you see a blue door. Should say his name there on the front.” He explained, pointing out into the long hallway. I nodded, though I was totally unsure of what he’d said. But before I could turn and confirm his direction, he was gone. I was alone, backstage, on the Ed Sullivan Show set.

My legs began to shake as I walked. The air around me was suspiciously silent. I picked at the same loose thread on my coat as before, looking around at the clothing and props that were strewn around. I made my way slowly through the hall, knowing that I was growing closer to Elvis’ door.

I began to hum ‘Don’t Be Cruel’ as I looked around. Then my eyes suddenly landed on a blue door. The name, Elvis Presley scribbled haphazardly on a sheet of notebook paper and taped lopsidedly to the chipping paint. I sucked in a breath, freezing a few feet from it. This piece of wood was the only thing standing between me and the rising star from Tupelo.

I almost felt like crying. Thousands of emotions were hitting me from every direction, nesting deep in my chest cavity. Then I raised my hand, letting it hover briefly before finally letting it fall to the door. Two soft knocks was all I could muster. So soft I was afraid I’d have to knock again. But the sound of Elvis’ southern drawl poured effortlessly through the cracks.

“Come in.” He said, his voice near to the door. I took a step back, while my hand landed on the handle. I filled my lungs with air one last time before slowly pushing the door open. Then just like that, there he was. His presence filling the whole room. His silver buttoned down sleeves rolled up, resting in the crooks of his elbows. The glittering vest unbuttoned and hanging loosely down his chest. Hands resting comfortably on his hips.

“Don’t be shy, Darlin’.” He said smoothly. “That’s my job tonight.” He chuckled, dropping his head and taking some steps toward me. I couldn’t help but smile. Elvis Presley shy? The thought never would have crossed my mind.

“Mr. Presley, it’s-“ I began, my voice trembling slightly.

“You can call me Elvis. I can’t be that much older than you.” He said, holding out his hand for me to take. I did so, blushing fiercely. He took my hand, shaking it lightly and then pressing a light kiss to my knuckles. My knees began to shake. “So is your name as pretty as you are?” My mouth hung open for a brief moment before I swooned quietly, telling him my name.

“Well, what d’you know? It is.” Elvis said in reply, smiling all the while.

“Y-your performance was wonderful.” I complimented, my heart rate finally beginning to slow. He bowed his head.

“Thank you Darlin’. Can’t tell you how silly I feel up there sometimes.” He confessed, rubbing his lips and turning toward the couch behind him and sitting down. I shook my head.

“Do you really?” I asked, draping my coat over the right arm of a nearby chair and folding my hands behind my back.

“I do. It’s all still so new to me, ya know?” He explained, running a hand through his hair. My breath caught at the sight of his sharp jawline. “Now before I keep on gettin’ to know ya,” he started. My eyes searched his, trying to figure out what he might say before he said it.

“You got a fella waitin’ on you somewhere? Or is my heart safe to keep on hopin’?” He asked. His words made me giggle. I moved to the chair and sat down, fluffing my skirt over my knees. I shook my head again.

“No fella. Just me and your records on the turntable most every night.” I replied truthfully. He chuckled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I guess I owe you a private concert then.” Elvis teased, a light blush dusting his own cheeks. My stomach flipped at the statement. I waved a dismissive hand.

“Oh you don’t have to do all that. Tonight was just enough.” I told him, watching his eyes sparkle at my words.

“I’m glad you liked it, Honey.” He drawled. Then he began to ask me about my life. My family. My friends. What turned me onto his music. Every answer I gave him, he listened. I mean really listened. The way he leaned forward on the couch. The tug on his upper lip, revealing his beautiful half smile.

Then I asked him about his. His parents. Why music. His favorite color, season, weather. We stayed there for what felt like hours, laughing and talking and just getting to know one another. I stared as he ran his fingers along his lips.

“Mm.” He hummed. “Darlin’ if I could bottle up your sweetness, I’d be the richest man living in America.” I blushed hard. I shook my head, curtaining my face with my hair. I saw his check his wristwatch, his brows furrowing in sadness. Then he stood, shaking his sleeves down his forearms.

“Let’s go for a walk.” He held out his right hand for me to take. “I ain’t ready to let you go just yet.” My heart melted and I took his hand, standing to my feet. He moved to grab my jacket, holding it open for me to slip my arms into. I put it on, Elvis standing close behind me, brushing his hands along my coat clad shoulders. Even in a couple of layers, he was making me shiver. Then he moved to the backstage exit door, pushing it open and gesturing for me to go first.

The cold air nipped at what little exposed skin I had. But the feeling of Elvis’ arm snaking around my lower back instantly warmed me from head to toe. We walked in comfortable silence for a while, looking around at the city lights and watching our breath puff out above us. Then Elvis started to hum ‘Love Me Tender’, setting my heart ablaze. I felt my head slowly dropping to his shoulder, but I was quick to catch myself, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. He must’ve noticed though.

“‘S alright, Honey.” Elvis said, pulling me closer to his body. I smirked, and laid my head shyly on his right shoulder. I exhaled, feeling like everything in the world had been made right.

“Elvis?” I asked, my eyes dancing across the neon sign in front of us.

“Mhmm?” He hummed softly, rubbing his cheek against the top of my head.

“Why did you pick me tonight?” I asked, my heart rate picking up as the words left my lips. I felt his fingers drawing aimlessly along my side.

“I’d have picked you every night if you’d been there, Darlin’.” He said softly. Genuinely. “Sometimes you just know. It’s like the good Lord whispers ‘that’s the one.’ That was you.” I could hardly breathe, letting his words sink in. Then I felt his lips land gingerly along my scalp just before he stopped walking. I carefully looked up at him, seeing his eyes flit down to my lips just before he leaned in, brushing his against mine tenderly.

“I hope you’ll write to me, Darlin’.” He muttered, not pulling too far back. My heart was in my throat and my eyes were blurry. “I’ll be lookin’ for every letter.” He took my hand and I felt a small, folded piece of paper against my palm. Elvis kissed me again, his hands locking on my lower back, my hands clutching the front of his shirt. This had to be a dream. We pulled apart Elvis squeezed the outsides of my arms.

“C-can I walk you home?” He asked, sounding nervous. I nodded, smiling a bit before speaking.

“You’ll have to leave me about a block away. My parents aren’t entirely fond of you. Nor do they know I came to see you tonight.” I told him honestly. His eyes sparkled at my words, and he chuckled, poking his tongue between his teeth.

“A block away it is then. Can’t have them taking you away from me.” Elvis said, draping his right arm over my shoulders. We walked, talking about the little and the big things in our lives, becoming more and more familiar with one another. Once we’d reached the corner near my home, we stopped, embracing each other one last time. Then Elvis peeled his jacket from his body and blanketed me with it.

“Something to remember me by.” He said with a quick wink. I reached up, cupping his cheek with my right hand.

“It’d be impossible to forget you Elvis Presley.” I admitted, standing on my toes and pecking his lips sweetly. He chuckled, biting his bottom lip.

“Until next time, Darlin’.” He said, kissing my knuckles.

“Next time.” I repeated confidently, knowing full well in my heart this was not the last time I would see him. With that, Elvis looked both ways, and crossed the street, walking back toward the studio, turning to wave one last time. I waved back, blowing him a quick kiss.

Once he’d disappeared, I stood there, clutching his jacket around my chest and fiddling with the paper he’d given me in my free hand. I quickly unfolded it, reading the address he’d written. I squealed as quietly as I could, jumping up and down and touching my fingers to my lips, still in complete awe of him. I didn’t know how long it would be before I saw him again, but for this one perfect night, I was his and he was mine.