After a fight you refuse to talk to Elvis. You want nothing to do with him after the level of disrespect! It was early Saturday morning and you were working quietly in the diner until you see him.

He stands there with last nights, now messy slick back, slightly tired eyes, and a little grin. He thinks that stupid little grin is always gonna win you over.

“I ain’t gonna let you hate me, baby.” He tells you as you go by.