Yours Truly - Chapter 8: The Great Gatsby

Yours Truly - Chapter 8: The Great Gatsby

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 2.5k

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. none.

|chapter index| prev |chapter 9

--

NOVA 

". . .And then one fine morning- So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." Professor Lloyd dramatically reads out, as he closes the book in his hands and places it on the mahogany desk beside him. He removes the thin, framed glasses and hangs them on the collar of his dark blue shirt. 

Professor Lloyd refocuses his attention back on us, his eyes scanning the lecture hall full of students. I sat quite far in the back, which is my normal chosen seating distance. It's not because I found Professor Lloyd intimidating, because he was far from that in comparison to the others that I have encountered in this course. I just find it much more relaxing sitting in the far back, it gives me a clear view of everything and I am able to focus more because I'm not near those who mess around and chatter too much. 

"As I have already discussed with you all beforehand, I will not read any chapters from this book in class. Except for this one that I have just read to you all." Professor Lloyd's states, his tone of voice enthusiastic, but low in the sense that he is about to let you in on a secret. I suppose that is why his class is always full every semester, his voice is void of monotone and you can easily tell that he enjoys the subject that he is teaching; despite it being over thirty years since he started his career. 

His eyes dart around the room, "Why?" He simply asks. 

We all exchanged confused looks on his words, which I suppose he has easily caught on as he holds his hand up to stop the whispers of confusion that floated the lecture hall. 

"Why did I read this one chapter? And most importantly, it is the last chapter." He clarifies his question.

Silence. 

I don't think anyone really knows the answer, despite his clarification of his question. It is really odd. At the beginning of the fall semester, I remember him telling us that on the first book assignment that we will have - he will not read any chapters in class, as he expects us to do that all in our own time. To throw even more confusion, he decided to read the very last chapter? 

My brain cannot grasp the answer, I guess that's how much of us feel on Monday mornings. 

Someone from the front row raises their hand, catching Professor's attention, "Yes, Mr Lopez?" 

"Is it because it is one less chapter for us to worry about?" He said jokingly, earning a chorus of chuckles around the lecture hall.

Professor Lloyd shakes his head at this and smiles, "Incorrect, Mr Lopez. You will all need to reread this chapter, it is imperative for your grade in this assignment." 

"Any other guesses?" Professor Lloyd tries again, "No? Alright." 

Once he realises that there is no response, Professor Lloyd sighs and turns around to the blackboard behind him. He grabs a chalk from the side and begins to write something out on the  huge blackboard, the scraping of the chalk being the only sound that filled the lecture hall. He places it down, and turns around to face us. 

My eyes trace the words 'THE BEGINNING.' 

"The oldest rule for readers is to read a book in chronological order. From the first chapter to the final chapter. it is logical, yes?" Professor Lloyds pauses, earning a few nods from the class. 

He continues on, "However, some writers, such as F. Scott Fitzgerald - that may not be the case." 

Okay. . . what is he getting at? 

Professor Lloyd begins to pace back and forth slowly, "In the world of creative writing, it is whispered from one writer's ear to another that they must not give everything away. To be a storyteller is to deliver a message, but writers do not hand that message to readers on a silver platter. Readers have to work for it. Which is why they must read the book in order, and not jump to the final chapter. However, I argue that although Fitzgerald spreads his message gradually in The Great Gatsby. . . he does it very vaguely. " He stops pacing and pauses, and begins to walk backwards until he is right next to the words written on the blackboard. 

He leans against the blackboard, arms folded across his chest "A certain level of vagueness ends with readers potentially misunderstanding the meaning he is trying to convey. Therefore, Fitzgerald's only saving grace is the final chapter of the book, the chapter that will say everything as plain and as clear as possible." 

A hand from the middle shoots up, belonging from a girl with dark hair, "Yes?" Professor Lloyd nods. 

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Professor. But I think I'm a little lost on what you are trying to say. Do you mean to say that the main theme of the novel is really only told clearly at the end, and not throughout? Like all the themes are overcrowding what he is actually trying to say?" She questions, her voice quieter but gradually growing in volume as she went on with her question. 

Professor Lloyd kindly smiles and nods, "Precisely, Miss Fontaine. As you read The Great Gatsby, you must be able to filter through the overcrowding, as you describe. Another point is that Fitzgerald leaves a hint. The final line implies not only the cycle of attitude that affluent members of society display, but also to go back to beginning." He states, pointing to the written words of the blackboard. 

"I do not recommend Fitzgerald's technique of vaguely conveying his true message throughout, and only revealing it in the last chapter. If you write, you must reveal your message little by little. However, Fitzgerald cleverly made it work for the tale that he was trying to tell - the connection of the last and first chapter. " 

I purse my lips in wonder and confusion. I raise my hand up, Professor Lloyd's eyes focuses on mine as he nods for me to ask my question. 

"So, wealth and tragedy are not the main messages of the novel then?" I slowly ask, which receives a shake of a head from Professor Lloyd. 

"I'm afraid not, Miss Sinclair. And no, I will not tell you all what the main message is. You will all have to venture this journey on your own and write your assignments once you've reached the end of the book. " He explains, looking around once again. 

Oh, another thing about Professor Lloyd, his memory is insanely sharp. He remembers everyone's names in the class. Which is unbelievable, I didn't quite believe it as first to be honest. 

"Any other questions?" 

"Yes, Mr Noah." He nods at the guy sat right at the right side of the far back of the lecture hall. 

The guy scratches the back of his neck with his pencil, "Sorry if this is a stupid question, Professor. But. . . if Fitzgerald's true message is only in the last chapter and you've just read it out to us -  what is the point of us reading the entire novel?" He says in pure confusion. 

Professor Lloyd chuckles at this, "The first and last chapter hold that vital message. Everything in between may not hold to that degree of value, however, there's the wondrous element in storytelling where the reader begins to see the characters as a friend. Therefore, I want to test you all on not only your analysation of Fitzgerald's themes in The Great Gatsby, but to experience the emotional value of literature." 

He walks back to stand behind his desk and claps his hands, "That is all for today, class. I wish you good luck on your assignments, but before you leave I want you remember this; the premise of the novel is that Jay Gatsby has built his entire life around this longing desire to be reunited with Daisy Buchanan, the one love that he lost all those years ago. Keep that in mind." 

--

The cafeteria is bustling with excited students, as the line for the lunch grows longer and longer. I am smart enough to know the chaos of this, so I decided to make my own salad at home and brought this in with me for today. In the corner of my peripheral vision I can sense someone approaching the table, and soon enough Luke takes a seat across from me. 

His lunch tray plops down on the table, "Dude, I am telling you I thought I'd never make it out of there," He shakes his head, eyes indicating to the long line of people getting their lunches. 

I furrow my eyebrows and point to him with the fork that I'm holding, "Wait, I thought that you left class early?" 

He shakes his head and finishes swallowing his food before responding, "You and me both. But shit happens." He says, his gaze rapidly avoiding mine as he takes a bite out of his hamburger. 

"Luke," I urge, "What happened?" 

"Nothing. . ." He trails off, but eventually sighs in defeat when he sees that I'm not giving it up. 

"F.uck, okay, So I ran into Matt." He shuts his eyes, cringing at the memory.  

"Ah, shit."

"I was on my phone and wasn't looking where I was going, and bumped into him. Fucking fantastic." He explains, gesturing animately. 

"What happened after? Did you turn around or. . ." I trail off.

He nodded, "I bolted the other direction and he didn't follow me, thank you God. But it did mean I completely forgot why I decided to leave class early in the first place." Luke sighs, gesturing to his plate of food. 

"So you didn't go to the cafeteria?" 

"I ended up in the library, which I know is such a new setting for me. . .hmm." He says, floating easily back into his humorous self. A sign for me that he is ready to move the topic of conversation to something else. 

I cleared my throat, "I need your help." 

"As long as it's not advice on men or relationships, my track record is golden evidence that such topics are not my expertise." He takes another bite out of his hamburger and sips from his orange juice. 

I chuckle at this, "No. Of course not." 

"Ok, just checking. You can proceed."  He gestures dramatically to me. 

"Do you have any plans tonight?" I inquire, taking a sip out of my bottle of water. 

Luke pauses drinking and squints at me in curiosity, "Depends. . . will I be laughing my ass off at whatever you are planning or not?" 

I shrugged, "Maybe or maybe not." 

"I need more information. My brain is not braining today," Luke replies pointing to his head. 

I don't even think braining is a word?

I grab my bag from beside me and place it on the table, then I grab hold of the napkin with scribbled content on it. I zip the bag up, and return it beside me. I take the napkin and place it clearly on the table. 

I take a deep breath, "I want to tick something off." 

"Ah, yes, Nova's List. This is a work of art, right?" Luke excitedly takes the napkin and studies it, "Courtesy of your darling friend;  myself and Charlotte." He says in a formal, upper class British accent. 

Darling. His voice echoes suddenly in my head,  and I feel my chest tighten slightly.  I snap myself back to reality before I am zoned out too far. 

"What kind of accent was that?" I chuckle at him jokingly. 

Luke gasps dramatically, "You are insulting me before I provide my expertise? I request an immediate review of our friendship contract." 

"Oh, shut up, " I shake my head, laughing at his theatrical response. 

"What do you want to tick off?" Luke asks me, his eyes reading through the list we made. 

"Actually, don't answer that. Girl, close your eyes," He says, placing the napkin back down on the table. 

"Pick something randomly. This way you won't overthink it." Luke explains. 

I close my eyes and move my hand over the napkin, gulping nervously. A second later and I stop moving my hand. 

"Okay, Nova, open your eyes."

My mind reels back to being with Elvis on a hot air balloon. Come on, honey, open your eyes. Everything from that dream still feels so vivid. His voice and the words he let go, his laugh, the breeze of the wind, the warmth of the sunset - his hand in mine. 

I snap myself back to the present moment, and open my eyes slowly. I peer at which idea on the list my hand landed on, "Oh, here we go." I chuckle nervously. 

Luke claps his hands excitedly, "Let's do it!" 

I know that I have to do this. I have to. I need to keep the momentum going. After all, I've only really done one thing on my list. As I watch Luke call Charlotte on his phone, I can't help but think that I'll be a little late in my dreams tonight. 

That is, a particular someone will still be waiting for me when I shut my eyes to sleep. 

next chapter

Yours Truly | Playlist 🎧

I present to you the songs that may help you through the journey of the story (in no particular order).

Already Gone |Sleeping at Last 

Mystery Train|Elvis Presley 

Walking in the Wind |One Direction 

The Sound of your cry |Elvis Presley 

Dream |Shawn Mendes 

Remember To Forget |Passenger 

Smile |Mikky Ekko 

About you |The 1975 

Snow on the beach |Taylor Swift ft. Lana del Rey 

Back To You |Twin Forks 

Somewhere Only We Know |Keane 

Labyrinth |Taylor Swift 

Fade into you |Mazzy Star 

Come Here |Kath Bloom 

When I Look At You |Miley Cyrus 

Never Say Never |The Fray 

The Night We Met |Lord Huron 

Bigger Than The Whole Sky |Taylor Swift

A Drop in the Ocean |Ron Pope 

Any Day Now |Elvis Presley 

Until It's Time For You To Go |Elvis Presley 

Kentucky Rain |Elvis Presley 

chapter index

Yours Truly - Chapter 5: Questions, Questions, Questions

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 1.8k

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. speeding lol, minor character injury, quite angsty.

|chapter index| prev | chapter 6

--

NOVA

A sharp gust of wind blew past me, its never-ending force meeting my skin. It was difficult to adjust to my surroundings, for all I saw is the landscapes flying by past me. Then it occurs to me - I am on a moving vehicle. And I am most certain the person operating the said vehicle - is him. 

"What the hell?!" I exclaimed. 

"Hold on, honey!" With his response, I circle my arms around his waist tightly. 

I have heard of Elvis' love for vehicles. His iconic Pink Cadillac was only one example, but I have heard of his collection of hundreds of cars and evidently-so, his love for motorcycles it seems. 

"Since when did you have a motorcycle?" I inquired, trying my best to level my voice to a volume that he will hear me, despite the encompassing wind. 

"What?" He countered back, briefly turning his head to me before refocusing back on the road. I attempt to repeat my question, but know that he could not hear me - so I focus on stabilising myself on the speeding vehicle and frantically try to distract myself on the fact that this is happening. 

I feel my heart beating loudly against my chest, like it's a beat away from truly escaping out of it. I have steered clear away from motorcycles in my life so far. They are the epicentre of everything that symbolised danger and higher chances of the safety line being crossed. I enjoy my peace and my safety, thus I never saw the appeal of riding a motorcycle. 

Elvis' howling laughter shakes me out of my thoughts. 

"Woohoo! Ain't it fun?" He doesn't turn his head around, but I can sense that he is grinning from the pure sound of glee in his voice. 

I shake my head and then realise that he can't see me. 

"You are crazy!"

He increases the speed which I did not think was possible from the rate that he was going, but it was. My eyes shut with the veins of fear gripping onto me, like it always did. At least maybe with my eyes closed now, it wouldn't be as frightening and we will get to where we are heading soon. I feel my hands tighten around his waist, in desperation that I do not fall off this motorcycle. 

The universe must've heard my prayers as before I knew it, the pace slowed down and the gust of the wind slowed. The motorcycle stopped. I hesitatingly open my eyes to confirm that we have in fact stopped. 

Elvis put the brakes on and swung his legs off the motorcycle, standing up. This is when I briefly realise what he is wearing. A classic black leather jacket, with a black turtleneck underneath and black pants to match. He swiftly took off his helmet, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through his hair briefly. 

How is he so good-looking? 

It really is unbelievable. 

"You need help, doll?" He smirks, that annoying smirk of his. 

"Huh?"

"When you are done checking me out, I can give you hand off the motorcycle. If you'd like." He chuckles at me. 

 I feel immense heat rush up my cheeks. I am horrified.  Was I really staring at him for that long? Nova, get yourself together. 

"I - I wasn't, " I stammered in which he rose an eyebrow at me, "Oh, shut it. I can get off this fine."  I said before he approaches me. 

Frankly speaking, it does suck that I am shorter than him. Tall people really do have the advantage of a lot of things. For instance, getting off a motorcycle does not require taking multitudes of time trying to get your feet to reach the ground. A problem that I am encountering as of now. 

"Are you sur-" 

I cut him off with my hands up at him, "Yeah, I got th-"

My sentence is cut off by the imbalance of my body, as I feel my body met the ground. That f.ucking hurts. Ouch. 

I hear Elvis rush to me, "Nova? Are you okay?!" 

I feel him take the helmet off me as he places my head onto his lap. His hands gently cup my face, and its contact does not go unnoticed. His hands are cold, but nevertheless, the fact that his skin is in contact with mine - it leaves me breathless for a brief second. 

Wincing at the pain, I try to open my eyes and see his blue ones meet mine. His once carefree smirk is gone, and is replaced by a frown and concern swimming in his eyes. 

"You are so f.ucking lucky that I landed on grass and not concrete!" I scold at him, hitting his arm with my hand lightly. 

He is confused at first, but then releases a sigh of relief. He shakes his head at me, "Hey lady! Here I am checking if you are hurt and you. . ." He trails off, but a smile is slowly creeping up on his lips. 

"I'm real glad I found you, Nova." 

I squint my eyes at him, "Elvis, you keep saying that. But you won't tel-"

"We are going to need a band-aid for your knee." He confirms, as he rolls my jeans up slightly to check my leg.

--

Pastel colors of orange, pink and purple adorned the canvas of the sky. The gentle sound of the water harmonised perfectly with the breeze of the trees. I sighed in the tranquility, and leaned back on the wooden bench. 

"This is nice."

"Yeah, it is. It's the quiet that I think every person needs once in a while." Elvis says, his gaze thoughtful as he looked at the glistening sun's reflection on the lake. 

"Very true. Especially after falling off a motorcycle," I emphasised jokingly. 

He turns to me and puts his hand up in mock-surrender, "Honey, I offered to help and you declined." 

I rolled my eyes at this, "Fine. I'll give you that. But you better explain to me why were we on a motorcycle in the first place?" I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"Didn't you say that you wanted to be a little more reckless, live a little?" 

"No, I didn't." 

But I did. Yes I definitely did. But I didn't verbalise it out loud. I said it in my mind when I blew out the candles at my birthday party. 

"Yeah, you did."

I don't argue with him any further and instead move on to a different question. 

"I have a question."

"Okay," He smiled, biting his bottom lip, "I'll answer it only on one condition." 

"What?"

"Trust me." 

"But-"

He moves closer to me, and holds my hands, "You and I both know that you wished to live more spontaneously. To be more open to new experiences and just live. I can help with that, and I promise you with all my heart that I won't let you get hurt, Nova. I know that there's that band-aid on your knee, but that is because of your own stubbornness."

My lips fail to stop the smile on my lips. 

"Okay, Elvis." 

He releases a sigh in relief, and he releases my hands. 

"I want to ask my first question now." 

"Go ahead." He smiles, although he is no longer holding onto my hands - he is still very much sat right next to me on this bench. There is literally no space between us. 

"How is this happening? I mean, how are you here again? I thought dreams are one-off. They don't continue like this." 

He shrugs, "I don't know, honey. I guess the boss up there owes me a favour." He points to the sky and chuckles. 

"Elvis!" I groaned, slightly annoyed. 

"Nova!" He grins. 

"Answer me seriously." I say. 

"I am, I swear."

I thought for a second. 

"Okay. How about this; I ask a question and you can only answer with one word." I say seriously, trying to decipher if he will agree to this. 

After a little back and forth, he finally agrees to this. It will give me a peace of mind. It has to. Because at the moment, this is not making any sense. Weren't dreams supposed to be different each time we dream? We don't continue of the last dream, don't we?

"Am I dreaming right now?" I take a deep breath, awaiting his answer. Although he kinda answered this before on our initial meeting, I want to ask him again. 

"Maybe."

He's playing safe. 

"Why are you in my dreams again?"

"Promise." 

I furrow my eyebrows at this. Promise? 

"What do you mean?"

"Uh-uh. Only one word, honey. remember?" He smirks. 

I sigh frustratedly and continue on, "Was your song playing on my way to lectures this morning. . . was that a coincidence?" 

"Nope." He shakes his head, more amused than ever at my confused features.

"Did you like the song by the way? It's not as known as my other songs. But it was a fun song from my movie called 'Live a little, love a little'." 

I freeze. He really-

"Are you real?" 

For the first time in this line of questions, Elvis simply nods and does not verbalise a response. 

"How do you know me?" I ask, and sense his body stiffen. There is that tension in his shoulders. 

"Let me rephrase that. . . who am I to you, Elvis?" I ask nervously. His features are etched with seriousness, and for a second I see a glimpse of an internal battle with himself. He opens his mouth to respond, but closes it once again. He looks away for a second and closes his eyes, exhaling. When he meets my eyes again, his eyes are red with the evidence of tears trying to break out.

I have never seen him cry in this short time I have known him so far, and I suddenly feel guilty for asking this. 

"Elvis. . ." 

I feel a tightness in my chest. 

"Nova. Please, please. . ." He bits his lip, holding back tears, "Please ask me something else." I notice that his hands are back in holding mine. But the hold is not gentle like before, this time it's like he is clutching my hands. Like when you are holding onto something to give you strength. 

I feel my throat dry. Suddenly, my mind is empty of any questions.

"Do you know how to swim?" I smile at him. 

He breathes a deep sigh of relief and chuckles, and I feel my chest become lighter to hear him chuckle. 

"Yeah."

"Good because I don't." I laugh. 

next chapter

Yours Truly | Journal entry no. 1

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 491

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW.

・❥・ Author's Notes: So this is a peek into what Nova is thinking at this point. This is a supplemental material to the on-going series 'Yours Truly' therefore, DO NOT read this unless you have read the between chapters 1-6.

|chapter index |prev|next

--

AN ENTRY FROM NOVA'S JOURNAL 

November 22 , 2022

Dear Journal, 

I know that despite buying this journal a while ago, I have never really written an entry in it. I've written quotes that I found from books and maybe my favorite songs. But I've never written a proper entry. I like to think that people write in their journals when something interesting happens in their life, and honestly-speaking, my life is not very interesting. 

But something happened. Suddenly. And I guess this is the point where I think it's only right for me to make this my first journal entry. 

On my 21st birthday, I made a promise to myself that I will try to take more chances. Which I know it a big statement for me. But I will try to do this. Luke and Charlotte helped me make a list. So in some way there is still order amongst the point of being spontaneous. 

I've been having dreams recently. Not normal ones I believe. I've been having consecutive dreams for the past week now. In my dreams, this man appears. He first appeared in my dreams on the night of my 21st. It gets crazier. I know that people dream about celebrities all the time, even more-so when people have a crush on a celebrity. But this is when it gets strange.

Elvis Presley appeared in my dream. And people can say that dreams don't make any sense anyways. But I never really thought about Elvis Presley. I mean, sure I watched the biopic of him when it was released during the summer and that was the first time I really learned about him. But for him to suddenly appear in my dreams? Consecutively? 

It gets crazier. 

Each time I wake up from these dreams, I remember everything. Every detail. Every conversation that I have with him in the dream. I am usually a person that looks for logic and scans a situation to know what's going on, but this makes me dumbfounded. 

Our conversations - they sound normal. like a normal conversation you would have in real life. But there is something more, something that I don't know. It's strange because Elvis, the way he acts, it's like he knows me. Certain details about myself and the way he is around me - it is like he has known me for so long. And I know that can easily be explained by how there is a part of the human brain that subconsciously generates personal dreams. 

But I just have this doubt inside of me. Something is going on, and it frustrates me to no end that I don't know what that something is. 

He says that he'll help me experience the things on my list, the goal of living life to the fullest. To try new things. So I'll try and focus on that instead.  

After all, dreams are just dreams. . . right?

Till next time journal. 

Nova. 

next

“Do you know what people really want? Everyone, I mean. Everybody in the world is thinking: I wish there was just one other person I could really talk to, who could really understand me, who’d be kind to me. That’s what people really want, if they’re telling the truth.”

— Doris Lessing

Yours Truly - Chapter 6: The List

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 2.3k

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. curse words, description of minor injury, gunshot.

|chapter index|prev|chapter 7

--

NOVA

I smiled brightly and said my 'goodbye' before ending the video call. It was Friday afternoon, and I have just finished the zoom call with one of my students. As a way to make money, I have taken up the role of being an English tutor to foreign students abroad. It was all done online, of course, and the students that I teach are of elementary school age. I am thankful that this option exists, as it makes things flexible for me especially when finals come around the corner. 

I glanced at the clock and see that it has just gone three o'clock. I have extra reading that I could potentially be doing, ahead of next weeks lectures. But I think that it's time for me to relax, and enjoy my time since it's a Friday anyways. 

My phone rings and I answer it, "Hello?"

"I am starving. Please tell me that you are done with your tutoring?" I hear the desperation in Luke's voice. 

I chuckle, "Just finished now. Where do you want to meet?" 

 --

"No more. I am not eating more." I declare, holding onto my stomach. 

"I second that." Luke says, leaning back on his seat staring up at the ceiling.

"Me too." 

The three of us sat in one of the red booths at the place. Both of us decided to meet up at the KFC just roughly ten minutes away from the apartment. It was predictably crowded, as it always is in a fast food chain on Fridays. But luckily, we managed to get a space as I don't think we were in the mood for finding a different place to eat - I could literally hear my stomach rumbling on the drive to the place. Initially, it was just myself and Luke that were going to meet up - but in a surprising turn of events, another person came into the mix. 

Charlotte. 

Unlike Luke and I, Charlotte and I have known each other for what seems like forever. Our mothers have been the best of friends since they were in college, and luckily, we continued that closeness in our friendship. As cliche as it may sound, we are inseparable - like the bond of two sisters. The only time that we haven't seen each other in so long, was when Charlotte went for university abroad. She decided to study in South Korea for university. So, the only ever times that we get to see each other was when she has a semester break. During that time, Charlotte has gotten to know Luke, and unsurprisingly we all formed this natural flow of friendship. 

"I could not believe that we managed to finish all of that." Charlotte chuckles, leaning over to glance at the empty bucket of fried chicken. 

"We are monsters." Luke comments, shaking his head laughing. 

"Well, I only ate an apple for lunch. So that's my excuse, " I shrug. 

I lean over and sip my drink of orange juice, "Not that I don't love you, but why are you here Lottie?" I question, furrowing my eyebrows at her. 

"Wow, Nova." 

I roll my eyes at Luke, "Oh, shut it. I meant to say, isn't it the middle of the semester?" I directed my attention back to Charlotte. 

Charlotte nods and smiles at both of us, "No, yeah, you are right. But they have given us a week off to focus on our projects. So. . . I decided to spend a day or two out of the country." She smiles sheepishly with a shrug. 

Luke turns to Charlotte and dramatically wraps his arms around her, "I am so happy that you are here, Lottie. Nova has been such a b.itch to me!" He breaks out from the hug and fake cries. 

I scoff, "Oh my God, You are such a liar!" I throw a napkin at him, laughing at his dramatics. 

Charlotte flickers her eyes between me and Luke, "I missed you both. But truthfully, I just wanted to make sure that you aren't getting yourself into a shit ton of trouble. " She grinned. 

Luke then leaps into an update about his situation with Matt. About how he has finally managed the courage to tell Matt about his feelings, and ran away very quickly from him. To summarise, Luke has been ignoring Matt for the past two weeks now. His phone has been flooded with endless voicemails and messages on his socials. I mean, I did try to advise him to just see Matt again and end it right there and then. Have that closure, so he does not have to worry about all these methods of Matt trying to reach out. But in the end, Luke decided to leave him a super long voice message. 

"So, yeah, I fucked up." Luke summarises, taking a drink of water. 

Charlotte shakes her head, "I don't think so, Luke. I think you fell for him." She smiles, understandingly. 

That's the thing about Charlotte. She is soft-spoken, but at the same time is not. Ask any advice from her; she will not sugarcoat. But at the same time, she will hurt with you if you are crying. She is both a risk-taker, and holds onto the safety-net of life. I guess that's why she's such a good blend to our small friend group, it's because she is a good mix of both myself and Luke's personalities. She's the balance. 

"Which is exactly why I fucked up. It's not like I planned to." Luke groans, hitting his head on the table. 

"Luke, don't hit your head." I cringe at the sound.

He stops and sits back up, releasing a deep sigh. 

"I don't think anyone ever plans to fall for someone. They just do. It happens." Charlotte began, "And just because he does not feel the same - does not mean it was a crime to fall for him. You said what you had to say, and now you can part ways." She shrugs. 

Luke tilts his head at her words, "You are a wise, wise friend. Both of you are, actually. Why are you both friends with an idiot like me, again?" He shoots us a quizzical look. 

"Who says we are friends?" I joked, laughing and Charlotte joins in. 

Luke mock-gasps dramatically with his hand to his chest, "Are you hearing this, Lottie? After premium friendship services I've provided her. I am deeply, deeply offended." 

Our laughter dies down, eventually. 

"What about you, Nova? Anything new with you?" Charlotte's eyes glint in curiosity, grinning at me. 

Yes. I think so. But should I say it? Or will they both think that I am insane? 

I shake my head, "Not really." 

No, I will not tell them about him. At least not yet. Not until I figure the situation out myself. I'll keep this secret in the meantime. 

Charlotte frowns a little, "Come on, you have to live a little Nova. "

"This is what I've been saying!" Luke says, gesturing towards me. 

"Before you guys attack me, "I speak up, "I will say this. I promised myself on my 21st that from now, I will try to be a little more out there. Key word: try." I emphasised, waiting for their reaction. 

Charlotte claps excitedly, "YES! This is what I've been waiting for you to finally do." 

Luke gasps, as his eyes lit up, "I have the perfect idea. I really am the genius among us three." 

I roll my eyes at him and smile, "Okay. What is it?"

"A list. You need a to make a list of everything that you haven't done before. Like a bucket list kinda thing." 

I pause at his suggestion. They must've sensed my apprehensiveness.

"I don't know, guys. That seems like such a big jump."

"There is no pressure to rush in getting it all done, " Charlotte speaks up, "The point of it is for you to have fun and to try new things. Hell, doesn't matter if it takes you years to get through them." She chuckles. 

Luke gets up from the booth and returns with a napkin and a pen. 

"The point is to simply live." Charlotte says. 

I thought for a second. I guess by making a list, it gives me a sense of preparation. That safety zone of being prepared, and anticipating how things will go. 

With a deep breath and a roll of my eyes, "Fine. Let's do it." I smile at both of them. 

I glance down at the napkin that Luke got and freeze, in the corner of it - there's a faint letter 'E' written down. 

"What's that?" I ask Luke. 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe someone was trying to write something, but their pen ran out." 

--

After changing into pyjamas, Luke and I meet in the living room of the apartment. 

"Oooh, what are we watching?" I ask, taking a seat on the couch. 

Luke is silent and doesn't respond to me. I look to him and find him with a puzzle look on his face, glancing down at my leg. 

"What?" 

"Girl, what happened to your knee?" He nears me. 

I let out a chuckle, "What are you on abou-"

I don't continue my sentence as I look down to see what he is talking about. I am wearing short pyjama bottoms, and from such a rush to change into them - I didn't even realise what was on my knee. I look down at both of them, there is nothing on my left knee. But as I switch my focus on my other one, there is definitely something there. 

There, on my right knee, is a single small soft-pink coloured band-aid. His voice echoes in my mind, as I remember his words. 

"We are going to need a band-aid for your knee." 

How? 

I carefully peel the band-aid slightly, and right there is the aftermath of a slightly scraped knee. A scraped knee that did not happen in this world. It happened in the dream world. Then why is it on my body here?

"I, uh, I was reaching something from the top shelf of my parents' garage and stupidly fell over." I muster up the best excuse I can find. Like I said, I never plan to tell my friends of my dreams yet - let alone the fact that an injury from the dream world has now manifested here. 

I look back up at Luke, and he shakes his head, "Yikes. Be careful."

After watching an episode of 'The Vampire Diaries', Luke and I say our goodnight and head to our own rooms. But I seem to not fall asleep. I am currently staring up at my ceiling, trying desperately to figure out the situation. From my memory, I never tripped over anything the past few days - I am a hundred percent sure of it. So, there is no way that this injury for this injury to exist. But I did fall off the motorcycle in my dream, but-

I need to shut up my mind. This is going to give me a headache. 

The quietness of the night eventually envelopes me, and I slip into the state of peacefulness - into a slumber. Well, not for long. That quietness is interrupted by a sound of a gun firing. I am sure it is a gun, and its sound makes me jump as I open my eyes. 

My gaze readjusts to my surroundings. There is nothing much. There is an absence of landscape, only the presence of sandy grounds and a long stretched-out road. A desert. There is a single tree in the middle of it all, with a familiar figure leaning against it - a silver gun in his hand pointed upwards, a slight smoke still seen in the air as the aftermath and he blows. 

He turns around and meets my gaze, "Sorry to shock you, doll." He grins, and swiftly flicks the gun between his fingers and shoves it in the back pocket of his jeans. 

"Well, you always knew how to make an entrance." I smile at him, shaking my head. 

I decide there is no point in asking Elvis more questions because it gets us nowhere, and actually leaves me with more questions. There is one thing I can confirm now though; this is the third time he has appeared in my dreams. Consecutive times. 

He approaches me and is now standing right in front of me, "And you always know how to find me, hi again." He smiles, biting onto his bottom lip and I cannot help but look into his eyes. 

"Hello."

Elvis takes something out of his front pocket and its familiarity makes my eyes widen. 

"So, I see you've made a list?" He questions, holding up a napkin. 

On the napkin is the list of that Luke, I and Charlotte made earlier. The list of things I want to try. It is the same napkin that we wrote on, the exact same. And it even has the faint writing of the letter 'E' on the corner of it. 

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