The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Jason POV:

You’d think that a whole night of texting with Ella would lead to something magical the next day—like, I don’t know, some sweet morning message or at least an acknowledgment that we were vibing. But nope. Nada. Zilch.

Still, I woke up grinning like an idiot, feeling like life wasn’t all that bad. No classes anymore since exams were finally behind us. Now it was just the limbo of waiting for results, graduation, and saying a final R.I.P. to the education system. For a moment, I let myself soak in the glory of that thought before grabbing my phone.

First instinct? Text Ella.

"Good morning, sunshine!" I sent, thinking I’d keep it light and funny.

I waited. And waited. And... nothing.

No reply.

Not even the little dots that tell you someone’s typing. Just radio silence.

What the hell?

I tried to reason with myself. Maybe she was sleeping in. She deserved to sleep in, right? After all, no more exams, and she worked a late shift. Probably still curled up in her bed like a burrito, blissfully ignoring the world.

I almost texted again, but then I stopped myself. Chill, Jason, I thought. No one likes a clingy guy.

Still, the absence of her response felt louder than it should’ve. Yesterday, she’d been so... there. Like, actually present. Texting back fast, throwing in those sarcastic little comments that made me laugh. Today? A black hole of nothingness.

By 9 O’clock, I was spiraling just a little. Was she mad? Did I say something dumb last night? Maybe she regretted the whole conversation.

I shook my head. No, Ella wasn’t like that. She was straightforward—sometimes brutally so. If she was upset, she’d tell me. Right?

But still, I couldn’t stop the tiny, irrational voice in my head that whispered, What if she’s ghosting you?

That thought lingered for a second before I laughed it off. Nah. She wasn’t ghosting me. She was probably just catching up on her beauty sleep or busy doing... whatever it was Ella did when she wasn’t working, studying, or roasting me.

So, I decided to play it cool. I wouldn’t text again. I’d give her space.

But I did keep checking my phone every five minutes like an idiot.

Because, yeah, apparently, I’m that guy now.

Practice. Early practice. Thank God.

If it had been scheduled for the afternoon, I’d probably have lost my mind waiting to hear from Ella. But nope, Coach had us up and moving by 10 a.m. sharp, drilling us one last time before the big game tomorrow.

It wasn’t so bad, though. The crisp morning air had this way of clearing my head. Plus, the team was hyped. Nationals were the thing we’d been working toward all season, and Coach’s whole speech about leaving it all on the field tomorrow actually got to me. I wanted to win. We all did.

But every now and then—between drills, during water breaks, or while waiting for my turn on the scrimmage—I’d catch myself pulling out my phone.

Still nothing.

No text from Ella.

"Yo, Jason, you good?" Dylan asked during a quick break.

I shoved my phone back in my pocket, shrugging. "Yeah, just checking something."

Dylan smirked. "Let me guess—Ella?"

Max, who’d been guzzling his water, nearly choked on it. "Wait, Ella? Did you finally shoot your shot, man?"

I rolled my eyes. "It’s not like that."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Sure. You’ve been acting like a lovesick puppy for weeks. If you’re not texting her, who else are you so desperate to hear from?"

"I’m not desperate," I shot back, maybe a little too defensively.

"Sure, you’re not, but hey if you got her number that’s saying something....how did that even happen?" Dylan said, grinning.

I ignored them and focused on the drills. But even as I dribbled the ball and nailed passes, my mind kept wandering back to Ella. Would she show up at the game tomorrow? She hadn’t said yes outright, but she hadn’t said no either.

And that’s when it hit me.

Maybe she wasn’t texting back because she didn’t know how to tell me she wasn’t coming.

The thought sucked the wind out of my sails for a second, but I shook it off. No, she’ll come, I told myself. Max practically guilt-tripped her into it last night. And besides, Ella wasn’t the type to let people down without a reason.

Right?

By the time practice ended, I was exhausted—but it felt good. The kind of exhaustion that comes with knowing you gave it your all. Coach dismissed us with a reminder to rest up for tomorrow, and the guys were already talking about grabbing lat lunch.

I checked my phone one last time before heading to the locker room.

Still no reply.

I sighed. "Guess she’s busy," I muttered to myself, trying to play it cool.

But deep down, I couldn’t help but hope that maybe—just maybe—she was waiting for the game to say something. Something like "good luck" or "I’ll be there."

Because, honestly, I wanted her to be there more than anything else.

We were in the locker room, wrapping up after practice, when Coach stormed back in like he forgot something. And, of course, it wasn’t to give us a pep talk or pat us on the back for a good session. Nope, he came in with the energy of a man on a mission—a mission to scare the life out of us.

"Alright, listen up!" he barked, making us all freeze mid-conversation. "I forgot to mention one minor detail..."

We all waited, exchanging wary looks. If Coach calls something "minor," you can bet your life it’s not minor.

"You are not to roam around today. I don’t care where you think you need to be or who you think you need to see. You go home, you eat, and you rest. That’s it."

Max, ever the genius, decided to interject. "But, Coach, what if we—"

"Don’t." Coach cut him off with a glare that could’ve frozen fire. "You so much as think about socializing, eating out, or stepping foot anywhere that’s not your place, and I swear, I’ll bench you the entire game tomorrow."

We all went dead silent.

Coach wasn’t done, though. "This isn’t just a game. It’s the game. We’re playing against those arrogant jerks. This isn’t just about winning—this is about pride, about proving who’s better. You lose focus now, and we lose the one shot we’ve been working toward all year. You don’t want to be the guy who screws it up for the rest of us, do you?"

None of us dared answer.

"Good," Coach snapped, his voice echoing off the lockers. "Now, go home. Rest. And if I hear about any of you doing anything else, you’re out. Got it?"

"Got it, Coach," we mumbled in unison.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving us to marinate in his threat.

Max, ever the rebel, waited until Coach was out of earshot before muttering, "So... no eating outside? Not even at the diner?"

I didn’t miss the way Max and Dylan both looked at me, their grins too cheeky for my liking. They knew exactly what the diner meant for me.

"Forget it," I said, shoving my gear into my bag.

Max smirked. "Guess you won’t be seeing Ella today, huh?"

Dylan snorted, adding fuel to the fire. "Coach really said no distractions. Tough luck, man."

"Both of you, shut up," I muttered, slamming my locker shut.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t already figured that out. Thanks to Coach’s sudden lockdown, my brilliant plan to swing by the diner and maybe catch a glimpse of Ella was officially shot to hell.

Great. Just great.

As I walked out with the guys, I couldn’t help but wonder what Ella was up to. Was she at work? At home? And, more importantly, was she thinking about me at all?

One thing was clear—thanks to Coach, today was officially a bust.

Back at my place, I threw my bag on the floor and headed straight for the kitchen. Practice had me starving, and after Coach’s little sermon, I needed something to distract me from the fact that I wouldn’t be seeing Ella today.

I threw together a quick meal, but my mind wasn’t on the food—it was on tomorrow’s game and everything riding on it. As captain, I couldn’t afford to mess up. Not now, not with it being my last game at campus. And Coach was right—I had to set an example for the team. If I couldn’t follow the rules, how could I expect the others to?

So, yeah, no diner. No Ella.

It sucked, but I wasn’t about to risk my entire campus legacy and spend my final game warming the bench because I couldn’t resist temptation.

Still, Coach didn’t say we couldn’t text. And yeah, I know texting is technically socializing, but it’s not like I’m breaking some unwritten law here. Plus, this is Ella we’re talking about—the queen of delayed responses. I could probably send her a whole monologue, and she’d take hours to reply, if she even replied at all. So, technically, I wasn’t really breaking the rules. Right?

With that logic firmly in place, I grabbed my phone and shot her a quick text.

"Hey, Ella. Won’t be swinging by the diner today. Coach is enforcing some ’no distractions’ rule before the game. Hope you’re doing okay."

After hitting send, I leaned back, half-hoping, half-expecting no reply. That’s just how it was with her. And as I waited, the exhaustion from the day hit me like a truck.

Before I knew it, the phone was slipping from my hand, and I was out cold on the couch.

Would she reply? Probably not. But hey, a guy can dream. Literally.