The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

ELLA POV:

So, after Max apparently made my shift with the chocolate (seriously, MVP of the day), the rest of the shift became bearable. Dylan, though? I don’t know what his problem was. Like, does he not know me by now? I roast everybody when I’m having a bad day—especially during my girl days.

If he’s sulking around waiting for me to apologize, he can keep waiting until hell freezes over. Let me be clear: apologizing would be the worst move. Dylan’s already confessed, and he was acting like I’m supposed to like him back. News flash: feelings don’t work that way. And if I say sorry, he’ll probably get some big idea in his head like, Oh, Ella feels bad. Maybe she likes me too. Nope. Not today, Satan.

I know I’m being a bitch. Fine. Whatever. But I’m not about to feed into Dylan’s man-child behavior. He needs to get over himself. I’m not going to be guilt-tripped into stroking his ego or his feelings. And in case anyone’s wondering about the whole Max hug thing? Max didn’t sulk. Max didn’t demand my attention or pity. Max got me chocolate. He figured out what was wrong and made it better.

Let’s break it down:

I roast Max all the time, and he’s still smiling and being sweet. I roast Jason on the daily, and he still shows up, smirking and annoying me, but never sulking like a kicked puppy. (Well, unless I’m out with other guys, but let’s be real, he has no claim there.)

Dylan, on the other hand? Sulks because I roasted him? Boy, please. He can go ahead and pout, but this bitch ain’t got time for that.

I continued serving, letting the rhythm of work take over. I even served Max and Dylan’s orders myself. Dylan? Still sulking, barely looking up when I set his food down. Max? Grinning like the chocolate hero he is. Naturally, I smiled back.

And really, that’s all I’ve got time for. One more month until graduation. Two weeks until exams. Two weeks after that for results. And then, one glorious day to stand there, cap and gown, officially a graduate. That’s the goal. Not Dylan’s brooding nonsense.

Focus, Ella. One month to go.

So there it was—my shift ended on a surprisingly happy note. Considering how it started, that’s a miracle in itself. Max and his chocolate offering definitely helped. As for my cramps, well, they’re usually the worst on the first day. But after some meds, they’ve downgraded to a dull ache. Bearable. Not great, but bearable.

When the clock hit the magic hour, I clocked out with no hesitation. Armed with my headphones and the remaining stash of chocolate Max had gifted me, I was ready to head home. Honestly, is there a better duo than music and chocolate? I think not. The ultimate collaboration, guaranteed to lift any mood.

I slipped my earpods on, queued up my "Good Vibes Only" playlist, and let the first beats drown out the noise of the day. With every step toward home, I unwrapped another piece of chocolate and let the sweetness melt on my tongue. Bliss. Pure, unfiltered bliss.

For the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe. No customers. No boys with their complicated feelings. Just me, my music, and my chocolate. Exactly what I needed to end this rollercoaster of a day.

Back at my apartment, I was debating whether to skip dinner entirely. I’d already showered—the first thing I did when I got home—and the thought of crawling into bed without bothering with food was tempting. After the day I’d had, sleep seemed like the best option.

As I mulled over my choices, there was a knock on the door. I froze for a second, wondering who it could be. When I opened it, there he was—Jason, standing there with his infuriating grin. Oh, right. I’d completely forgotten about him.

Popping a piece of chocolate into my mouth, I leaned against the doorframe, eyeing him carefully. Part of me was debating whether to just ask for the book and slam the door in his face. Honestly, I was tired, and dealing with Jason’s usual antics wasn’t high on my list of priorities.

But before I could make up my mind, he raised a KFC bag like some sort of peace offering. "I brought dinner," he said, looking entirely too smug about it.

And just like that, I caved. Food. Food is my weakness, clearly. I stepped aside to let him in, reasoning that at least I wouldn’t have to scavenge for a meal tonight.

"Fine," I said, crossing my arms and watching him as he strolled inside like he owned the place. "But don’t get used to this."

He just grinned, placing the bag on the counter. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the fact that I might be turning into a softie. Stupid food. Always ruining my resolve.

"You seriously came all the way here with food?" I asked, shutting the door behind him.

Jason strolled in like he owned the place, holding a bag that smelled suspiciously amazing. "Well, I didn’t want you to starve," he said, all casual-like, as if this wasn’t the most ridiculous thing he’d done this week. "And I figured bribing you with food might keep me on your good side."

I raised an eyebrow, trying not to let my lips twitch into a smile. "Smart move. For once, you’re using that brain of yours."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he shot back, already pulling out containers of chicken and fries like this was some kind of five-star restaurant. Then, with a flourish, he reached into the bag and pulled out biscuits like he’d just won an Olympic medal.

"Okay, now you’re just showing off," I said, though I couldn’t stop my eyes from lighting up for a second. Stupid biscuits. Stupid Jason.

"Guilty," he said with a grin, clearly enjoying himself way too much.

I grabbed a chair and dropped into it, giving the food a skeptical once-over. "So, what’s the catch?" I asked, stealing a fry and popping it into my mouth.

"No catch," he said, sliding a piece of chicken onto a plate like he was some sort of butler. "I promised I’d bring you notes, and I figured dinner might make up for my messy handwriting."

I snorted, because of course he’d bring that up. "Might? You’re going to need a miracle to make me understand your notes."

Jason gasped like I’d just insulted his entire family lineage. "Hey, I actually paid attention today," he said, all mock outrage. "I even wrote down everything the professor said. I might have a future as a scribe."

"Sure, if the future is hieroglyphics," I shot back, grabbing a piece of chicken. But despite myself, I was amused. Damn him.

He sat across from me, opening his fries, while I dug into the meal. And honestly? It was good. Like, annoyingly good. With every bite, the day’s grumpiness seemed to chip away a little. Stupid Jason and his stupid charm.

After a while, I glanced at him. "You’re not half bad, Jason," I said, mostly because I felt like he deserved at least that. Just a little acknowledgment.

"Only half?" he asked, grinning like an idiot.

"Don’t push your luck," I said, smirking.

Progress? Maybe. But he’d better not get too comfortable. I’d keep him on his toes.

He was mid-fry when I decided to drop a truth bomb on Jason. "I don’t know which ghost visited you and showed you your past, present, or future," I said, making sure my tone dripped with enough sass to fill the room, "but whatever made you change from your obnoxious self, they did a pretty good job."

I wasn’t prepared for the comedy show that followed. Jason choked on his fry like I’d just announced his social security number in public. He scrambled for his drink, coughing and sputtering. "Wow, Ella," he finally managed, setting his cup down like he’d just escaped death. "Way to hit me with the Dickens special. Are you saying I used to be that bad?"

I crossed my arms and leaned back, giving him the flattest look in my arsenal. "Used to be? Jason, if we were scoring obnoxiousness, you’d still hold the record."

"Harsh," he muttered, but of course, he laughed. Because Jason doesn’t take anything seriously—except, apparently, showing up at my door with food. "I’ll have you know, I’m not obnoxious—I’m charming."

I snorted. "Keep telling yourself that," I said, grabbing another fry.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table like he was about to have a serious moment. Which, let’s be honest, is not his vibe. "You know, it’s funny. You’re always quick with the insults, but you still let me in. So either I’m not as bad as you claim, or you secretly enjoy my company."

I raised an eyebrow at him, lips twitching because, unfortunately, he wasn’t entirely wrong. "Or," I said, emphasizing the word, "I’m just too polite to kick you out."

"Polite?" he repeated, laughing like I’d just told him the moon was made of cheese. "Ella, you’ve literally threatened to slam the door in my face before. Politeness doesn’t really seem to be your thing."

Okay, he had a point. I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Maybe I’m growing soft. Or maybe you caught me in a good mood—thanks to the chocolate, of course."

"Ah, so it’s not me; it’s the chocolate," he said, clutching his chest like I’d broken his heart. "Good to know where I stand."

"Exactly," I shot back, smirking as I reached for my drink. "Chocolate ranks way higher than you on the Ella-approved list."

Jason held up his hands in surrender. "Fair enough. Guess I’ll just have to keep showing up with food and biscuits to keep my spot on that list."

"Smart man," I said, taking a sip and pretending he hadn’t just earned himself half a point for effort.

For a while, we ate in silence, and I had to admit, it wasn’t awful. Jason was tolerable when he wasn’t being a total idiot, and I’ll give him this—he knows how to pick good takeout. It almost made up for his existence. Almost.

"By the way," he said suddenly, breaking the silence, "if you ever figure out which ghost it was that did the job, let me know. I owe them a thank-you."

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto my face. "Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that."

And, for some reason, I actually meant it. Maybe I really was going soft. Or maybe it was just the chicken talking.