The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

ELLA’S POV:

You know those mornings when you wake up and everything feels peaceful, like the world decided to cut you some slack? Yeah, this wasn’t one of them.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes wasn’t my ceiling, or the clock on my nightstand, or even the chocolate bar I was sure I’d fallen asleep clutching. Nope. It was Jason’s face.

Jason’s freaking face.

He was lying there, sprawled on the other side of my bed, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who had absolutely no business being there.

My brain went into immediate panic mode. Was I dreaming? Was this some elaborate hallucination brought on by period pain and too much chocolate? No. This was real. Very real.

So, naturally, I did what any self-respecting woman in my position would do.

I screamed.

Jason’s eyes flew open, wide with confusion, just as I shoved him as hard as I could. There was a loud thud as he hit the floor, flailing like a startled cat.

"What the hell?!" he groaned from the floor, rubbing his shoulder and looking up at me like I’d just betrayed him.

"What the hell?! What the hell?!" I echoed, clutching the covers to my chest like they were a shield. "What are you doing in my bed?!"

Jason blinked, his face still creased from sleep. "You told me to stay!"

"I told you to stay, not to make yourself at home in my freaking bed!"

"You were in pain! I didn’t want to leave you alone!"

For a moment, his words hung in the air, and I felt my anger waver just slightly. I vaguely remembered him carrying me to bed, asking me what I needed, plugging in the heating pad... But that didn’t explain why he was still here!

"Okay, but sleeping in my bed? What, the couch wasn’t good enough for you?"

Jason groaned again, sitting up and looking utterly unapologetic. "I didn’t want to leave you, okay? What if you woke up and needed something? Or worse, what if something happened while you were sleeping? Besides, I didn’t get under the covers!" He pointed at the blanket still draped over me. "I stayed on top of the covers, Ella. Relax."

Relax? Relax?! This man was lucky I didn’t have a weapon within reach.

"Jason, you don’t just... You can’t just... Ugh!" I flopped back onto the bed, covering my face with my hands as frustration and mortification battled for dominance. My cramps were starting to creep back in, and I was too tired to properly deal with this.

Jason, for his part, had the audacity to smirk. "You know, for someone who told me to stay, you’re acting pretty ungrateful."

I peeked at him through my fingers. "Ungrateful? Ungrateful?! You’re lucky I don’t kick you out right now!"

He shrugged, standing and brushing himself off. "Fine. Next time you’re crying and clutching your stomach, I’ll just leave you to fend for yourself."

His words made me pause, guilt trickling in despite my irritation. I hated that he had a point.

Jason leaned down slightly, his expression softening. "Look, Ella, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t mean to overstep."

I sighed, the fight draining out of me. "Fine. But next time, you sleep on the couch. Got it?"

"Got it."

"And don’t you dare smirk at me."

He grinned, the jerk, but at least he had the decency to try and hide it. "No promises."

I groaned, pulling the covers over my head. This was going to be a long day.

"I’ll make you breakfast," Jason said with a confidence that made me skeptical immediately.

I raised an eyebrow, clutching my blanket tighter. "You? Cook? Jason, forgive me if I don’t jump up and down with excitement at the thought."

Jason tilted his head, pretending to be offended. "Why does everyone think I’m useless in a kitchen? I can cook!"

I squinted at him, unconvinced. "Define ’cook.’"

He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "Ouch, Ella. That cuts deep. I’ll have you know I can make an omelet, toast, pancakes, and..." He paused for effect. "Instant ramen."

I blinked at him, unimpressed. "Instant ramen doesn’t count. Even toddlers can do that."

"Relax, Ella. I’m not going to poison you," Jason said with a smirk as he got up and stretched.

I narrowed my eyes at him, still clutching my blanket like it was a security shield. "Forgive me for being skeptical, but do rich kids even know how to cook?"

Jason turned to me with a mock gasp, clutching his chest like I’d just insulted his ancestors. "Ouch. That hurts. You think I’ve never stepped foot in a kitchen?"

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Well, have you?"

He looked away for a split second too long before muttering, "Technically, yes."

"Technically? That’s not reassuring, Jason."

He shot me an exaggerated glare. "Okay, first of all, I can make a mean omelet. Second of all, you look like you could use something other than chocolate and ice cream for breakfast."

"Don’t you dare slander chocolate," I deadpanned.

"Wow, no faith at all," he muttered, shaking his head. "Fine. You just sit there and relax. I’ll prove to you I’m not just a pretty face."

I rolled my eyes, mumbling, "Pretty face, my foot," but deep down, the offer caught me off guard. It had been ages since someone offered to take care of anything for me. I wasn’t going to admit that to Jason, though. No way.

"Fine," I said begrudgingly. "But if I hear so much as one fire alarm, you’re banned from the kitchen forever."

He gave me a mock salute. "Got it. One five-star breakfast coming right up!"

I didn’t trust him for a second, but it had been a long time since anyone had offered to do something for me without expecting anything in return. And as much as I hated to admit it, the thought of someone making me breakfast—burnt or not—felt... nice.

Still skeptical, I called after him, "Hey, if I smell smoke, I’m calling the fire department!"

His laughter echoed from the kitchen. "You’ll be fine! Just stay in your princess bed and let me work my magic."

I stayed wrapped in my blanket, listening to him rummaging in the kitchen. The clatter of utensils and the sound of the fridge opening made me a little nervous. Could he actually cook? Or was I about to witness a disaster?

The smell of something cooking wafted through the air, and to my surprise, it didn’t smell bad. There was the faint aroma of eggs and toast, and my stomach betrayed me by growling loudly. Stupid body.

"Ella!" Jason’s voice called from the kitchen. "Your royal breakfast is almost ready. I expect a five-star Yelp review!"

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. Curiosity got the better of me, and I shuffled toward the kitchen, still wrapped like a burrito.

When I peeked inside, Jason was at the stove, flipping an omelet like some kind of pro. There was already a plate with buttered toast, and a glass of orange juice sat beside it.

He noticed me and grinned. "What? Couldn’t resist watching a master chef at work?"

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You’re lucky I don’t have my phone. This would be prime blackmail material."

"Go ahead," he said, smirking. "You’d only be showing everyone how amazing I am."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Let’s see if it’s actually edible first."

Jason plated the omelet, placing it in front of me like he was presenting a masterpiece. "Your breakfast, madam."

I sat down, poking at the omelet suspiciously. "If I die, I’m haunting you."

Eyeing the plate suspiciously. The omelet actually looked good—fluffy and golden, with bits of vegetables and cheese peeking out.

"Noted," he said, sitting across from me, arms crossed, waiting for my verdict.

Jason sat across from me, watching intently as I took a cautious bite. I took a bite, fully prepared to fake disgust if it was awful. But to my surprise, it was... good. Really good.

"Okay," I admitted reluctantly, taking another bite. "Not bad."

Jason grinned triumphantly. "Not bad? That’s all I get?"

"Don’t push it," I warned, though I couldn’t hide my smile.

For a moment, the room was quiet as I ate, and Jason just watched, looking pleased with himself.

"Thanks," I said softly, glancing up at him.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, but there was a warmth in his smirk that made my stupid heart skip a beat. "Anytime, Ella."

Great. Now I couldn’t even hate him properly. Stupid Jason.

Stupid rich jerk. Why did he have to be so annoyingly sweet?

As I continued eating, Jason grabbed a second plate, loaded it up with an omelet and toast, and sat down across from me.

"What? You think I was going to slave away in the kitchen and not eat too?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he dug in.

I rolled my eyes. "Slave away? You cooked for all of fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen glorious minutes of artistry," he corrected, gesturing to his plate like it was a piece of art. "Michelangelo didn’t rush the Sistine Chapel, Ella. Respect the craft."

"Yeah, sure," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, though the food in front of me made it hard to argue too much. I took another bite, savoring it despite myself. "So, do you always crash into someone’s apartment, take over their kitchen, and make yourself breakfast?"

Jason smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Nope. Only for you."

I froze mid-bite, my heart skipping a beat at his casual tone. Stupid hormones, messing with my brain. I quickly covered up my reaction by scowling. "Lucky me," I muttered, though my voice came out less biting than I intended.

Jason just grinned, clearly pleased with himself. He took another bite of his omelet, as calm and casual as if we were having breakfast together every day.

"So, what’s the verdict for real this time?" he asked after a moment, gesturing at my plate.

I chewed thoughtfully, pretending to consider. "It’s edible."

Jason gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Edible? That’s all I get? This is gourmet, Ella. G-o-u-r-m-e-t. You should be bowing in gratitude."

I snorted, shaking my head. "Keep dreaming."

We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and I realized how much better I felt. The cramps were still there, but not as sharp as before, and having Jason around was oddly... nice. Not that I’d admit it out loud.

When I finished, I leaned back in my chair and sighed. "Okay, I’ll admit it. You can cook. Don’t let it go to your head."

Jason smirked. "Too late."

"Of course it is," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

He got up and started clearing the plates, and I couldn’t help but watch him. It was weird seeing Jason like this—quiet, helpful, not his usual cocky self. It was... endearing.

"Hey," I said, surprising even myself.

He turned, his expression curious. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. For, you know, everything. The chocolate, breakfast... being here." I looked away, feeling awkward.

Jason smiled, soft and genuine, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, "Anytime, Ella."

And just like that, I was reminded why having him around might not be so bad after all. Damn it.