Devil in disguise (Dallas Winston fan-fic)

Wasted life

He was wearing a yellow shirt, black trousers and his very well known blue suede shoes. His hair was slicked back with grease as only he knew how to do it, with his iconic sideburns. I stared at him, my jaw dropped and my palms started sweating. "Elvis," was the only word I managed to say.

He showed a charming smile and said "That's me."

Tears rose from my inside and blurred my vision, running down my cheeks soon after. Elvis just stood there, smiling and being so damn sweet I nearly fell down to the ground unconscious. He took the photo I had in my hand and signed it. I looked at him feeling weak and sick and happy at the same time. I didn't know what to say even though I had imagined how that moment would be a thousand times when it happened.

He handed me the photo back and I grabbed it with my shaking hand. I couldn't keep my eyes off him, not even to take a look at his autograph. He was there and was real. I couldn't stop sobbing at all. But the best was, he leaned in and held my face between his hands to kiss my cheek before moving on to the next fan. That was all; I closed my eyes hard and held his arm between mine, smiling like a dumb chick.

Dallas stepped forward from behind me and quickly put an arm across my shoulders, staring at the singer with a threatening look. "She's mine," Dally said, knitting his brow.

I was about to tell him the man he was talking to was the King, that he couldn't do that. But instead, Elvis smiled again and added "You're a lucky couple. I wish you the happiness Priscilla and I have. God bless you." And then he moved on and soon lots of girls ran to stand before us, making us go back out of the crowd.

"Can we go now?" Dally said sighing.

I nodded, walking away by his side and looking back from time to time to see if Elvis was still there. Dallas placed his hand on my ass and pulled me closer to him. "I see Elvis can handle you," I teased him.

"No man can handle me," he answered. "I would have punched him if I couldn't be sent to jail."

"You wouldn't," I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, I swear. I got a knife in my pocket."

"You're overreacting. Why would someone do that? I mean, you ain't jealous of him, huh?" I asked.

Dallas rubbed the back of his head and shrugged. "Maybe," he said.

I laughed. "I can't believe it. Why the hell–?"

He cut me off. "Cause I can do nothing, man! There are plenty of boys you like out there and I'm nothing compared to any of them. I can't understand why you like me!" He walked over to the car and hopped on the driver's seat.

"What's wrong with you? Why you worry 'bout this so much now when a few days ago you didn't give a damn?" I asked him, sitting down next to him.

He sighed. "Just tell me why, man. I need to know."

"Well, you... You look so fine and were standing there like this world had nothing to do with you. I just said 'this is what I want' and followed you since then. What's the deal?" I was shocked. "I don't know what else to say, babe."

"I don't either," he said knitting his brow and getting the car started.

"Then what's going on? Really, you're acting like a girl on her period," I said bothered.

"What?" he turned to me.

"Nothing."

"You're a good girl. That's the problem." I was going to raise a hand to say it wasn't true but he shook his head. "You're 16 years old and you don't know who you're messing around with. You wanna show you're bad 'cause you like it and for me to like you. But you got a decent life, unlike me, and you ain't gonna mess it all up, man. I can do nothing for you and there's nothing you can give me to change my mind. Alright?"