The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Ella’s POV:

Okay, waking up to a "good morning" text from Jason was not something I expected. Scratch that—it was something I didn’t want to expect. I stared at the message on my phone, half-asleep, blinking like maybe I’d imagined it.

Jason: Morning, Ella. Don’t forget to eat something before class. And don’t roast me for this, I’m just being nice.

Nice? What? Since when did Jason become the poster boy for unsolicited morning advice?

I tossed my phone onto the bed and rolled over, burying my face in my pillow with a groan. The past couple of days had been... confusing, to say the least. Sharing meals with Jason, exchanging what could only be described as "pleasant banter," and even—dare I say—accepting his help with notes? What was happening?

"Maybe it’s the cramps," I muttered into the pillow. "Temporary insanity brought on by hormonal imbalance. That has to be it."

But even as I tried to write it off, my brain wouldn’t shut up. When did I start sliding into the Jason isn’t a bad guy after all section of my life? When did the annoying guy who never gives up become the guy who brings me KFC and doesn’t have the world’s worst notes?

I sat up, brushing hair out of my face and grabbing my phone again. The text was still there, sitting in my notifications like a smug little reminder of my spiraling confusion. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, torn between two options: ignore it completely, or hit him with a sarcastic reply that would make it clear I wasn’t that impressed.

But no. Nope. Not today. I wasn’t going to message him back. Let him wonder. I had more important things to focus on.

Like class.

The next fifteen minutes were spent in my usual state of morning chaos. Shower? Check. Clothes? A pair of jeans and a hoodie because I wasn’t about to impress anyone today. Coffee? Barely. I grabbed a travel mug and filled it with what was left in the pot, wincing at how bitter it tasted.

As I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed out the door, my phone buzzed again. I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Jason: So you’re just going to ghost me? Rude.

I rolled my eyes, stuffing my phone into my pocket without replying. Ghosting him didn’t count when I never agreed to this weird pseudo-friendship in the first place, right?

The campus was already buzzing with life as I made my way to my first lecture. Students streamed past me, chatting, laughing, or looking as tired as I felt. I kept my head down, sipping my coffee and trying to push Jason’s stupid text out of my mind.

But, of course, my brain had other ideas. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

It wasn’t just the text; it was the whole vibe of the past few days. Why was he suddenly everywhere, doing things that were... thoughtful? I mean, the KFC, the notes, even the dumb chocolate. Was he trying to prove something?

Or was I just overthinking it because my life had been suspiciously drama-free lately?

I sighed, shaking my head. "Stop it, Ella," I muttered under my breath. "It’s not that deep."

By the time I slid into my usual seat in the lecture hall, I was ready to forget about Jason altogether. Unfortunately, the universe wasn’t done messing with me.

"Hey, Ella."

I looked up to see Max dropping into the seat beside me, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. "What’s up?"

"Not much," I said, pulling out my notebook. "Just trying to survive the day."

Liar.

The first thing I did when I walked into class was look around for Jason. Not that I was looking for him, per se—I was just doing a general scan of the room, as one does. But to my surprise, he wasn’t there. No smirk, no teasing "Good morning, Ella," and no overly cheerful vibe that somehow managed to annoy me and... well, whatever. He wasn’t there, okay?

Even Dylan wasn’t in today. The seat he usually slumped in was empty, and honestly, it felt a little eerie.

The only one from their group who bothered to come was Max, sitting slouched in Jason chair with his usual couldn’t-care-less expression.

Max chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Fair enough. By the way, Jason said to tell you hi if I saw you."

I froze, my pen hovering over the page. "He... what?"

"Yeah," Max said, clearly enjoying my reaction. "He figured you’d be ignoring his texts, so he asked me to pass the message along."

"Of course he did," I muttered, scribbling nonsense in the corner of my notebook. "Because apparently, he doesn’t understand boundaries."

Max raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "You two are getting along these days, huh? Never thought I’d see the day."

"We’re not getting along," I said quickly, glaring at him. "I’m just... tolerating him. Barely."

"Sure," Max said, dragging out the word like he didn’t believe me for a second.

I was trying to focus, but my brain? Oh no, it wasn’t having it.

Why isn’t Jason here? Is he sick? Did something happen?

I glanced at Max again. He was flipping through his notes, clearly paying zero attention to anyone. Should I ask him? Did Max even know where Jason was? Would it look weird if I asked?

Ugh. I hated this.

I shut that thought down immediately. I wasn’t worried. Caring? Ew, no. Let’s call it... curiosity. Yes, that sounded better. I was curious. It wasn’t like I missed him or anything. I just noticed his absence because, well, the guy was hard to miss.

Still, the room felt quieter without him. And it wasn’t a good kind of quiet—it was the kind that made you notice how slow the clock was moving and how boring the lecture sounded.

When the professor gave us a break halfway through class, I debated asking Max where Jason was. It wouldn’t hurt to know, right? Purely for logistical reasons. I still had Jason’s book in my bag, and I didn’t want to lug it around forever.

But then I stopped myself. Asking Max would seem... I don’t know... caring, and I was not about to give anyone that impression. Besides, it wasn’t like Jason and I were friends or anything.

So instead, I sat there pretending to go through my notes while my brain kept looping back to the same thought: Why isn’t Jason here?

Max, meanwhile, seemed completely unbothered. He scrolled through his phone, occasionally chuckling at something, completely oblivious to the mystery gnawing at me.

By the time the lecture ended, I was ready to crawl into a hole and disappear. But instead, I found myself wandering toward the campus café, my brain still stuck on Jason and his annoyingly persistent existence.

I grabbed a sandwich and a coffee, claiming a corner table where I could sit and sulk in peace. But as I unwrapped the sandwich, my phone buzzed again.

Jason: Don’t worry, I’ll stop texting you if you’re that bothered. But just so you know, I hope your day’s going well.

I stared at the screen, my sandwich forgotten. The guy really didn’t know when to quit. And the worst part? I couldn’t decide if I was annoyed or... something else.

Nope. Annoyed, I told myself firmly, shoving the phone back into my pocket. I didn’t have time for whatever this was. I had class, exams, and a whole future to think about.

.....

The diner was busier than usual today, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it kept me on my toes, distracted, and too busy to overthink anything. A curse because, well, you try balancing five plates while dodging screaming kids and overly chatty customers.

But as busy as it was, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at the door every time it swung open. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was paranoia. Or maybe... nope, not going there.

One by one, the regulars trickled in. Old Mr. Dawson with his usual order of black coffee and a grilled cheese. The group of college kids who always occupied the booth in the corner, laughing too loudly. Even that one lady who always left a weirdly specific tip of $5.34.

But no Grimm Brothers. Not Jason. Not Dylan. Not even Max.

I should’ve been relieved. Actually, I was relieved. No Jason meant no awkward moments, no sarcastic quips, and—most importantly—no weird, fluttery feelings that I absolutely refused to acknowledge.

So why do I keep looking at the door? I asked myself, refilling a cup of coffee with more force than necessary.

The rest of my shift was a blur of coffee refills, order pickups, and dodging customers who thought snapping their fingers was an acceptable way to get my attention.

But every now and then, I’d catch myself glancing at the door again. It was stupid, really. It wasn’t like I was expecting him to show up. Jason didn’t even like this place. He’d only come in the last time because he was being his usual persistent, infuriating self.

Still, there was this tiny, annoying part of me that hoped—ugh, no. Not hope. That wondered if he’d walk in.

This is great, I thought sarcastically as I balanced a tray of milkshakes. No Grimm Brothers, no boy drama, no distractions. Totally focused, totally professional, totally—

"Ella!"

I turned to see maddie my co-worker waving me over from the kitchen. She had that look on her face, the one that said she was about to say something I wouldn’t like.

"What now?" I asked, setting the tray down at a nearby table.

"You’ve got a delivery," she said, smirking.

Confused, I walked to the counter where maddie was standing, pointing at a small brown bag with a note taped to the front.

"Who’s it from?" I asked, eyeing the bag suspiciously.

"No idea," she said with a shrug. "It came in while you were busy. The guy said it was for you and left."

I peeled the note off the bag, my stomach doing a weird little flip as I read the familiar handwriting:

"Don’t skip dinner. Thought you might need this. —J"

Inside the bag was a takeout box from my favorite Thai place.

Great. Just great.

I shoved the bag into my locker in the back and spent the rest of my shift pretending it didn’t exist. I wasn’t about to let Jason’s random act of thoughtfulness mess with my head.

Except... it already had.

Why would he do that? What was his angle? Was this some kind of elaborate scheme to get me to like him? If so, it was working.

Wait. No. Scratch that last part.

When my shift finally ended, I grabbed the bag from my locker and debated whether to toss it in the trash or take it home.

In the end, I took it home.

Not because it was from Jason, of course. It was just good food, and I wasn’t about to waste it. That’s all.

By the time I got back to my apartment that evening, I was exhausted. Between classes, assignments, and trying to avoid Max’s knowing smirks, the day had drained me completely.

I kicked off my shoes, collapsing onto the couch with a groan.

As I sat on my couch, picking at the takeout, I couldn’t help but feel conflicted.

Jason had been... different lately. Less obnoxious, more thoughtful. And it was throwing me off. I wasn’t used to this side of him—the side that showed up with notes, brought me food, and sent good morning texts like it was no big deal.

Part of me wanted to write it off as a phase, like he’d get bored eventually and go back to being his usual annoying self. But another part of me—the part I was trying very hard to ignore—kind of liked this version of him.

I sighed, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling.

"No boy drama," I muttered to myself. "Yeah, right."

My phone buzzed again, but I ignored it, grabbing my laptop instead. I had work to do—real work, not whatever mental gymnastics Jason’s texts were making me perform.

But as I opened my project, my mind wandered.

What was I doing? Why was I letting Jason get under my skin? It wasn’t like I liked him or anything. He was just... there. Persistent, annoying, and weirdly thoughtful.

I shook my head, trying to focus. "Nope. Not going there," I muttered, typing furiously to drown out the thoughts.

By midnight, I was halfway through my project and ready to call it a night. But as I climbed into bed, my phone buzzed one last time.

Jason: Goodnight, Ella. Don’t stay up too late.

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the screen. Part of me wanted to reply with something snarky, but another part—the part I didn’t want to acknowledge—was... touched.

With a sigh, I locked the phone and set it on my nightstand. "Goodnight, Jason," I whispered to the empty room, rolling over and pulling the blanket over my head.

I didn’t text him back. But maybe tomorrow, I would.