All stories, good or bad, begin at the right time and place.
The night Rosalie Wood's boyfriend of one year proposed to her during an Elvis Presley concert in 1956, she went from thinking she knew everything, to knowing nothing. Faced with Wendell'...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
◌ ◌ ◌
All stories, good or bad, end at the right time and place. _______________________
◌ ◌ ◌
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
* chapter music * _____________________________
This chapter includes a belonging soundtrack, announced further into the chapter—written with this song in mind—setting the mood. This was of the original tracklist of around five songs.
_____________________________
◌ ◌ ◌
Rosalie POV
The 9th of August, 1957
Elvis' fingers flew over the keys, black and white, on the piano. Breathing quietly next to me, it was as though he lived through the push of his fingertips. The depth of each move of his roamed the light and darker tones in a harmonious melody.
Sharing the bench with him, Elvis laid his soft gaze upon me. Meeting his eyes, he smiled with a heavenly calm. Underneath though, I could see the fighting notion of nervousness. His eyes got this timid, shy look to them.
«It's a beautiful tune, Elvis.» I shared, barely loud enough not to be called a whisper, not wanting to interrupt the angelic piano.
«It is...» He said, steady and assertive-minded. «I wanted to play it for you, see what you'd think of it.»
«Is that why you're nervous? Because you didn't know what I would think of it?» Not entirely understanding, I didn't know how Elvis could think I wouldn't love it—about everything he touched turned to gold.
«Sort of, but not exactly.» He smiled with a humorous tune to his soft-spoken voice. «There's lyrics right there, at the lid of the piano. Would you set them in place?» His kind-hearted manner spoke, leaning down to kiss my bare shoulder—lingering his touch for a whole moment and a half. Surprising me and leaving me speechless, the newly shown way of affection seemed utterly profound. I had gotten used to his forehead and temple kisses, but this was something else. New and exciting, with the foreboding of unnerving repercussions.
