Presley

I wake up to the sound of my alarm buzzing. I've slept through the first three.

Last night, I slept undisturbed. For the first time in three years, there were no constant nightmares nor panic attacks. Phew! I pray to God it stays this way.

Looking at my phone, I see it's a quarter past seven and I start to panic. Maddy's going to be here in fifteen minutes.

"Shit!" I scramble out of bed.

My hand connects with the bedside table and I wince.

Grabbing a pale green T-shirt and a pair of denim jeans out of my cupboard, I rush into the small bathroom, brush my teeth and shower.

I'm combing my hair when Gramma calls, "Presley, hurry up! Maddy's been waiting for ten minutes now."

Dammit! Maddy's already here?!

"Just a second, Gramma." I apply some lip balm. Grabbing my school bag, phone and sax, I turn the room light off before hurrying downstairs, taking two steps at a time. Grandma is standing next to the kitchen counter holding my baby pink lunch box and water bottle. I thank her before taking them from her and rushing towards the front door. Turning back, I say, "Gramma, no nightmares last night," before sprinting towards Maddy's car parked right in front of the house.

"Sweetheart, that's wonderful news," I hear Gramma's distant voice call in a cheery tone.

Maddy looks bubbly and gorgeous as always as I get into the shiny tiffany-blue-painted Ford Mustang her parents gifted her on her sixteenth birthday. Although I'm technically older, she looks more mature than me. It's because of how we dress. She's got a sophisticated style that screams effort, while I tend to just dress comfortably. Today she's wearing a coral-pink sweater with plain white jeans. Her wavy blond hair spills loosely around her shoulders with a few rebellious strands framing her face. She's lightly touched up her face with some eyeliner, mascara, and a light-pink lip gloss.

Another thing I love about Westbeach High is the dress code. We're allowed to dress however we want as long as we don't wear clothes that reveal too much. My old school in Leigh Falls had very strict rules and a school uniform policy which every child hated. Here at Westbeach High, there's a lot more freedom.

My best friend frowns at me as I shut the door and fumble for the seat belt. I tilt my head and eye her.

"Why are you so dressed up?"

"Woman, why the fuck are you not? It's the first day of the semester." Maddy waves her hands around.

I gasp dramatically.

"Wait. Are you saying that I need pretty clothes to look good?"

"Elle, you know what I mean," she says, opening her door. "Now, come on, let's get you into better-looking clothes. We have people to impress today, remember?"

"What?! No, Mads, we're already late for school. And I'm not changing. I really like what I'm wearing." I glance down at my plain green T-shirt and denim jeans.

Maddy completely ignores me and comes around to my side of the car and drags me back inside the house.

"You're not walking into school wearing that today. Hell no."

She walks me past a confused looking Gramma, who just stares at us as we head upstairs.

"Your granddaughter isn't properly dressed for school, Jenny," Maddy explains, not stopping. She's always called my grandmother, Jennet, Jenny and my grandfather, Leonard, Lenny since we were kids. "I just really like the names and they suit them well," she had said when I first questioned her about it.

Inside my room, she says, "Oh! By the way...did you look him up like I asked you to?"

The image of the shirtless Deon with rock-hard abs on Instagram pops into my head and my face heats up.

"Look who up?" I ask, pretending as if I've no idea who she's talking about.

"Hmm...what's with the blushing?" She smirks.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I reply nonchalantly.

"Did you check the new guy, Deon, out on Insta? Isn't his feed amazing?" she questions, rummaging through my clothes.

"Err...yeah, I did, and it was okay."

I tell a half-truth because she always knows when I lie.

"Hmm..."

She grins like she got an extra donut for free from Dunkin'. Damn you, Mads. Grabbing a white lace off-shoulder crop top, she passes it to me. She says it matches my jeans. I turn my back towards her and change into it.

"I didn't have any nightmares last night," I say, turning back around.

Maddy's face breaks into a smile.

"If Kiki was here, she'd be so happy for you, you know?"

"Yeah."

Hearing someone mention my sister or my parents doesn't hurt anymore. A couple of years ago, I would have started sobbing uncontrollably.

When we're back in Maddy's car, she cranks it up and starts driving towards Westbeach High. 'Good 4 U' by Olivia Rodrigo plays on the car's stereo, and Maddy and I hum along. A red Audi sports car on the side of the road a couple of houses away from mine catches my eye.

"Hey, Mads?"

"Hm?" She hums, still focused on the song.

I point at the big house. It's the most expensive one on my street. "Do you think someone moved in after Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins moved out last week? I haven't seen that car here before."

Maddy turns her head to look at where I'm pointing.

"Maybe. Well, at least I hope they're nice people and nothing like the rich old hags who used to live there."

"Maddy!" I scold. "That's not a nice thing to say."

"Pfft. You know they were mean to us," she scoffs. That's true. They hated Maddy and I for some unknown reason.

As Maddy parks her car at our private school's parking lot, I realize we're twenty minutes late. We get our things out of the car and take off running.

"Elvie Presley is back!" Someone shouts from a corner as we enter the band room, and everyone turns in their chairs to look at us. A few dozen wolf whistles and clapping sound from around the room. I'm not a fan of the attention that follows me around because of my name, but I've gotten used to it.

"I believe you're late, girls." Mrs. Davis walks towards us. It's very clear she's trying to look disapproving, but her lips curve into a smile.

"Um, Mrs. Davis, it's my fault we're late. I'm sorry," I apologize.

"Oh, Presley, it's fine. We were just getting started. I'm thrilled to see the two of you after the break," our teacher smiles kindly at us. "But you two better not make a habit of getting late for practice this semester," she jokes, but with a little warning.

"How was your holiday, Mrs. Davis?" Maddy chirps.

"It was wonderful. I had a great time with the family. Thank you for asking, Madison. How was your holiday, girls?"

"It was great," we both say simultaneously.

Her eyes drop to her wrist watch and she frowns a little.

"I would love to chat, girls, but we're running late— Oh! and I almost forgot," she says, dragging Maddy and I to a corner of the room. "I need to introduce you two to our newest band member." She gestures at someone. I sneak a glance at Maddy and she shrugs, grinning.

My eyes lock with the guy's before our teacher even announces him. "This, girls," says Mrs. Davis, proudly. "Is Deon Martinez. He's a new student from Nashville, and he plays the guitar."

Oh my.

Deon Martinez in the flesh is a work of art.

My subconscious taps at me. You're not supposed to like him, remember? He's a player.

I frown immediately, narrowing my eyes a little.

Our teacher leaves the three of us to introduce ourselves and moves over to the trumpet section to help tune the instruments.

"Hi, I'm Madison," Maddy says, beaming at him. "But everyone calls me Maddy."

"Nice to meet you, Maddy." His voice is very smooth and it sounds like honey to my ears and is incredibly sexy. He smiles at her and turns towards me and says, "Hey," as if he's known me forever. God. His looks don't disappoint. He seems to be even better and sexier in person than in his Instagram posts.

I find it hard to maintain my frown when he's smiling at me like he's just won a Grammy. God, he looks super cute with dimpled cheeks and—what even is that jawline? His silky black hair is tousled and the top button of his shirt is open, revealing a bit of his well-built chest.

Maddy, you're a goddess for making me change my clothes earlier.

I make a mental note to thank her later. If it weren't for my bestie, I would've looked very much out of place in my plain green t-shirt and jeans while Deon looked like every girl's wet dream.

I drag my eyes up to meet his, and my hazel ones collide with his baby blues. He looks tall, probably about a head taller than my five-foot, four-inch self. How on earth can a guy be so good-looking?

Suddenly, I have an urge to run my fingers through his black silky hair—

Screeeeech.

My dangerously fast train of thoughts comes to a scraping halt as if it's just noticed someone standing on the tracks.

I blink myself back to reality.

"You're Elvie Presley, right?" He winks at me, his smile cutting through any tension between us. I frown a little, my cheeks heating up. Bloody hell! Why am I blushing? I don't want him to think that he affects me in any way. Even if he obviously does.

"Just Presley."

I look down for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts and get back to scowling at him. He chuckles, and I immediately fall in love with the sound. I look up to see an amused look etched on his face.

"You're quite popular around here." Deon grins before smirking as if he's remembering something. "You left me on seen last night."

"Uh..." I look around to see if anyone's looking at us when I see Maddy smirking, her eyes switching back and forth from me to Deon. At least someone's enjoying themselves.

"Oh wow. So that's what that was about back in my car," Maddy says, her lips carving into a smug grin.

Shit! She's been here the whole time I was ogling him.

"Okay, then. That's my cue to leave," Maddy says.

"No, it's not!" I hiss in her ear, lightly grabbing her arm.

"See you around," she tells Deon before squeezing my hand, mouthing out, 'Tell me everything' and leaving. We watch her sashay towards her boyfriend.

When I turn back to Deon his eyes are on me.

"She seems cool..." he says.

I have the urge to scoff, but I clear my throat instead.

"Uh...yeah. She's my best friend, but she can be a little...crazy sometimes."

His grin returns, and it makes him look even more handsome than he already is. A small smile tugs at my cheeks and I give up frowning.

"So, what's the story behind your name?"

"Um...my parents were Elvis Presley fans, crazy enough to name me after him." I laugh thinking about how much they adored him and loved his songs.

"Oh, really? Wow." He chuckles softly.

I awkwardly change the subject. "So...I hear you're popular in Nashville. Is that true?"

"Do you think it is?" He answers my question with one of his own.

"Not at all! No way," I say emphatically, and immediately realize I sound offensive. Deon eyes me. He most certainly didn't expect that. I close my eyes for a second and re-run the words that just left my lips in my head. When I open them Deon's smiling again. Not sure what to think of this, I say, "I've gotta go play some scales now, so if you'll excuse me." I turn to walk away before he unleashes more playboy charms on me.

"Okay. I'll see you around I guess," he says, still grinning.

"I doubt that." I give him a smug grin.

"Oh, I will." Deon winks before turning around and walking towards the guitar section.

Cocky much?

As I walk towards the saxes, I feel the glares of Jessica and her bitchy sidekick, Alina burn through my lace top. The two of them are Westbeach High's worst mean girls and they hate my guts. I take my seat and place the reed on my mouthpiece, ignoring them while Mrs. Davis waves her hands around trying to get everyone's attention.

"I'll be conducting today's session since the band leader is absent. Let's take the concert B flat major first scale. Instruments up. Three...Four..."

Mrs. Davis' hands start moving as everyone starts playing. I look around to see that everyone's concentrating on their fingering and looking at the manuscripts in front of them.

I search for Deon among the guitarists and spot his baby blue eyes staring straight at me. He smirks, and Tyler, who's sitting next to him, leans close to his ear and says something that makes him laugh. Then he turns back to me and smiles. I melt like a piece of Cadbury on a hot California plate at the sight of those criminally cute dimples. I try to focus on the score, hoping the music drowns out the feelings. I'm only half successful. But, I refuse to give in to what I feel for this guy.

He seems like a really cute, smoking hot, playboy jerk and a huge flirt— if that even makes sense— but I won't give in.

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