Born Too Late [Elvis Presley]

Chapter 11: I Miss You

One week later

Penny Jones

"And he won't let you take care of him?" Sharon asks. We lay on her bed - Sharon laying on her stomach, while I lay on my back. Lesley Gore plays quietly from the record player on top of Sharon's vanity. "Nothing at all?"

I shake my head as I take another sip from the bottle of white wine in my hand. It's a Sauvignon Blanc. "Nothing," I say as I pass the bottle to Sharon, who brings the bottle to her lips, tilting her head back as she takes a long sip. "I mean, is there something wrong with me? Is there something seriously wrong with me?" I look to Sharon. "Would you not want me to suck your dick?"

Sharon tears the bottle from her lips and turns her gaze to me. "Aw, baby, I've been waiting for you to ask me that for so long-"

"Shut up!" I nudge her, breathing out a laugh through my nose. "I'm serious," I cover my face with my hands. "What's wrong with me?"

"Don't start with that shit, Penny." Sharon raises her eyebrows. "There's gotta be a reason. Just talk to him about it."

I let out a breath. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"I always am," she says. And just as I'm about to roll my eyes, I suddenly hear Sharon's front door bursting open. Who could that be? My eyebrows furrow and just as I'm about to start panicking-

"Hi girlies!" Danny calls from downstairs, putting on a high pitched voice. "Get yourselves down here, we're going to the lake." Sharon's eyebrows knit together and she glances at the clock on her nightstand.

"It's 2am!" she shouts back, clearly tired.

I, however, am the opposite. I happen to have adjusted my sleeping pattern because Elvis and I have seen each other every single night for the past week - tonight being the first night we aren't spending together. Each night has been amazing - we talk for hours. The conversations we have are unlike any conversation I've ever had with anyone else. Elvis understands me in a way that no one else ever has. It's nice to feel understood.

And as you can imagine, those conversations we have lead to kissing, and kissing leads to...other things. But the issue is that those other things are only beneficial to me.

Don't get me wrong, the way Elvis makes me feel is amazing - it's surreal, and euphoric. But I can't help but wonder why every time I try to return the favour, Elvis shoots me down. He keeps saying I just wanna make you feel good, baby.

But why?

"It's a good thing we have alcohol, then. Isn't it, Shar-Shar?"

Sharon rolls her eyes and I stand up from her bed, holding my hand out for her to take. "Come on. Let's go have some fun."

~

The next day

"Penny," my father pulls the telephone away from his ear, looking at me over his shoulder. "Peggy's on the phone. She wants to speak to you."

Oh, god. That can't be good, I think to myself. I haven't spoken to Peggy since she phoned me and scolded me about breaking up with Jonny. I've been avoiding it because I've been enjoying being in my little bubble with Elvis. But I guess I'll have to face her sometime.

I use all the strength I have in me to stand up and walk over towards my dad, taking the telephone from him. He walks over to the kitchen table and resumes drinking his cup of coffee. "Hello?" I say into the telephone. My voice comes out sounding flat.