With Love, 𝙀𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙨

Chapter 17

Y/N HUDSON

MAY 28, 1960

"Where is he, Billy? We were supposed to do a soundcheck five minutes ago," you huffed, walking with Billy through the chaos backstage. Not only was chaos unfolding in front of you, but you were hearing chaos in your earpiece, sometimes you just wanted to rip the damn thing out.

"Might be in his dressing room I'll ask around," Billy said before parting ways with you.

You thanked him and made your way toward Elvis' dressing room. Your steps were powerful and strong which resulted in your hair bouncing with each step. You were wearing a cropped white turtleneck with a pair of tight-fitting white jeans, a black belt, your black heeled boots,  and a black jean jacket with white stitching. The tight jeans were coming into style, and although they were, the men surrounding you were still taking glances any chance they would get.

You eventually found Elvis' dressing room and knocked on the door rapidly. After not hearing anything, you groaned and burst open the door yourself. Elvis was sitting on the couch, which was facing away from the door, head back and his eyes clenched shut as his neck arched back. He was letting out loud groans and at this point, after hearing him and Priscilla go at it nearly every night, you were so unphased.

"Elvis I don't care if you are getting blown right now or if it's your own goddamn hand, you need to get on that stage for soundcheck!" You demanded, staring at the back of his head.

"Mmph, one second, honey," he murmured.

"Don't you honey me, you need to get your ass out there!" You yelled.

"Y/n, I-"

"Now!"

With that, you left and slammed the door shut. You pressed your back to the door and smiled to yourself. You've become more independent, at least towards Elvis, and he didn't come across your mind as much when you weren't working.

This killed Elvis on the inside, and he wanted things to go back, but he's been struggling to deal with his own feelings with Priscilla recently. He'd been losing sleep over the mess of a relationship he'd gotten himself into. Priscilla was blind to this, in fact, she had been telling her friends how he'd propose any day. This made Elvis feel guilty as he wasn't even 100% sure that marriage was what he wanted right now.

You were checking things off on your clipboard when you heard the door swing open, you moved to the side only a few seconds before, knowing he'd eventually come out. He was fixing up his double-breasted waistcoat, something you noticed he'd wear if he was feeling confident. Due to the deep cut, his chest hair stuck out and he looked like someone who could command a whole room with a snap.

He readjusted his glasses and you looked at him funny, curious as to why Priscilla didn't walk out of the room with him, that was Priscilla in there with him, right?

Reminding yourself to ask him about it later, you began walking and Elvis knew to follow you. The tension between you two was killing him, so Elvis took it upon himself to speak to you first.

"How long 'till the show?" He asked.

"Around half an hour, but they start seating in fifteen. We were supposed to have done a sound check ten minutes ago, but someone was a little busy," you said, giving him a look.

He chuckled and shook his head, "sorry 'bout that, mama. I lost track of time."

It had been forever since he called you mama, you furrowed your brows in thought but still responded, "no shit, E. And mama? Haven't heard that one in a while."