The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Jason POV

After receiving our certificates and enduring the endless photo session, I grabbed Max and Dylan, determined to head straight to Ella. Despite everything that had just come to light, there was no way I was going to start treating her differently. So, she was Kingsley’s daughter—the heiress to one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in the world. Big deal. Ella was still Ella. The girl who wore hoodies to class, the girl who had this sharp tongue but a hidden soft side, the girl who somehow managed to get under my skin in the best and worst ways.

As we approached her, I noticed the way her shoulders relaxed slightly when she saw us. There it was—a glimmer of relief. She thought we’d be weird about it. She thought we’d change.

I smirked, keeping my tone casual. "We’re still friends, Ella. If that’s even what we call this... thing we’ve got going."

Her lips quirked up in that small smile of hers, the one that was so subtle you could miss it if you blinked. But before I could say anything else, she turned to Max and motioned him closer.

"Max," she said, her voice softer than usual, "can you do me a favor?"

That shouldn’t have bothered me. But it did.

Max leaned in as she whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, it had him grinning like a damn fool, his face practically splitting in two.

"Sure, anything for the richest girl in the world," he joked.

I clenched my jaw, doing my best to hide the irrational irritation bubbling up inside me. What the hell did she ask him? And why was he smiling like that?

Ella walked off toward the washroom, leaving me standing there with Max and Dylan. I turned to Max, my impatience getting the better of me. "What did she ask you for?"

Max just laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "Relax, man. You’ll see soon enough."

"Max," I said through gritted teeth, but he was already pulling out his phone to make a call.

I didn’t have to wait long to find out, because not five minutes later, one of Max’s family drivers pulled up with his blue motorcycle. My stomach sank.

No. No, no, no.

No way.

"You’re giving her that death trap?" I asked, my tone sharper than I intended, pointing at the sleek bike like it was some sort of wild animal.

Max shrugged, his grin widening. "Chill, Jason. She knows what she’s doing. I’ve seen her ride before. She’s a pro."

"Ella can ride a motorcycle?" I blinked, my mind racing to catch up. How the hell did Max know that? And why didn’t I?

"She’s full of surprises, isn’t she?" Max said, clearly enjoying my confusion.

Before I could press him further, Ella emerged from the washroom—and I swear, for a moment, the world just stopped.

Her hair was swept up into a messy bun, loose strands framing her face in a way that made her look effortlessly stunning. She’d ditched her graduation gown, folding it neatly in her hands, and her dress now had a dramatic slit that reached her thigh. It wasn’t part of the original design—that much was obvious—but it worked. And her shoes? She’d broken the heels clean off, turning them into flats.

Who even does that?

Ella Kingsley, apparently.

She walked toward Max, her eyes lighting up when she saw the bike. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just pure, unfiltered excitement.

Max handed her the helmet, and she passed her folded gown to Dylan, who took it without question. Then, with the kind of confidence that could only belong to Ella, she slipped the helmet on and adjusted the strap.

I couldn’t just stand there.

"Ella—" I started, stepping forward to at least try to talk some sense into her.

She didn’t even look at me. "Goodbye, Jason!" she called out, her voice light and teasing, completely ignoring the concern in mine.

Before I could say another word, she mounted the bike like she’d been riding her whole life.

The engine roared to life, the sound sharp and commanding, and with a twist of the throttle, she was off. The bike shot forward, leaving a blur of blue and the scent of burnt rubber in its wake.

I stood there, dumbfounded, watching her disappear down the road.

"Damn," Dylan muttered, breaking the silence. "She’s badass."

Max clapped me on the shoulder, his grin as irritating as ever. "Told you she knew what she was doing."

But I wasn’t listening anymore.

Because all I could think about was the girl I’d just let speed off without stopping her—the girl who had my heart racing faster than that damn bike she was riding.

My mind was on Ella—Ella on that bike, speeding off into the unknown like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And me?

I was left standing there, my heart racing faster than the damn bike, wondering how I’d managed to fall so hard for a girl who never stopped surprising me.

As the roar of the engine faded into the distance, a cold realization settled over me: Ella was gone.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. My chest felt tight, like someone had just sucker-punched me, and I couldn’t shake the gnawing fear curling in my stomach.

She’d left. Just like that.

"Jason, you good, man?" Dylan’s voice was cautious, like he wasn’t sure if I was about to explode or break down.

Good? Was I good? Hell no.

I shot Dylan a glare that made him hold up his hands in surrender. Max, however, was still grinning like an idiot, clearly unfazed by the whole thing.

"She’s not running away, you know," Max said, his tone annoyingly casual.

"You don’t know that," I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

Max raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure she just wanted a break from all the craziness. It’s Ella. She’s not going to vanish into thin air."

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She could.

Ella wasn’t just some ordinary girl who’d hop on a bike for a quick joyride. She was Ella Kingsley, daughter of the most powerful man on the planet, and if she wanted to disappear, she had the resources, the skills, and the sheer determination to do it.

And me?

I couldn’t compete with that.

The thought hit me like a freight train, and suddenly, all the moments we’d shared flashed through my mind: her sarcastic quips, the rare but genuine smiles she’d let slip when she thought no one was looking, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief when she was plotting something...

And now, all of that was slipping away.

"I should’ve stopped her," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

"Stopped her from what?" Max asked, his tone still light. "Living her life? She’s not a doll, Jason. She’s Ella. And Ella does what she wants."

"That’s exactly the problem!" I barked, finally snapping. "She does what she wants, when she wants, and there’s no stopping her. What if she doesn’t come back, huh? What if this is it?"

Max’s grin faltered, and Dylan shifted uncomfortably beside him.

"She’ll come back," Dylan said, his voice quiet but firm. "She’s got too much going for her here to just leave it all behind."

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him so badly. But the thing about Ella was that she didn’t play by the rules. She wasn’t tied down by expectations or obligations—not anymore. She’d spent years hiding in plain sight, breaking away from her father’s shadow, and now that she’d been exposed, who’s to say she wouldn’t just... vanish?

"She was already planning to leave," I muttered, the weight of my own words sinking in.

"What?" Max frowned.

"Before today," I explained, my voice bitter. "She said she was moving out of her apartment, starting some new job... she was already slipping away, and I didn’t even see it."

"Jason—"

"No, Max," I cut him off. "You don’t get it. You didn’t see her face today. She didn’t want any of this—the attention, the whispers, the stares. She’s been running from it for years, and now, thanks to her dad, it’s all back. She’s not sticking around to deal with it. She’s going to run, and this time, she’s not looking back."

Max and Dylan exchanged a look, but neither of them said anything. What could they say?

I turned away, running a hand through my hair in frustration. My mind was racing, trying to come up with a plan, any plan, to stop her from slipping through my fingers completely.

But what could I do?

I was Jason—the guy with the busted leg. I wasn’t her knight in shining armor, and I sure as hell wasn’t the kind of guy who could compete with her world.

But I couldn’t just let her go.

Not without a fight.

"She’ll come back, man," Dylan said again, trying to sound reassuring. "She always does."

But I wasn’t so sure this time.

I turned to Max, my voice low but firm. "I need to find her."

Max blinked, surprised. "Dude, she’s on a bike. Unless you’ve got a jetpack, you’re not catching up to her."

"I don’t care," I snapped. "I’ll wait at her apartment, her work—hell, I’ll camp out in front of her dad’s house if I have to. But I’m not letting her just disappear on me."

Max sighed, but there was a hint of a smile in his expression. "You’re hopeless, you know that?"

"Yeah," I muttered, grabbing my crutches and heading toward the car. "But she’s worth it."