The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

MAX’S POV

Okay, it was official.

Jason was a lovesick idiot.

Even in his intoxicated state, the only thing on his mind was Ella.

Not his company.

Not his reputation.

His vengeful, nightmare-inducing wife.

It was like he forgot she was on a personal mission to make his life a living hell.

At 7 PM sharp, Jason’s assistant called me, sounding stressed out of his mind.

"Sir, Mr. King is in a foul mood today... and, um, he just walked into a bar."

Great.

Because that’s exactly what we need—Jason getting wasted while already on Ella’s bad side.

So, like the good friend that I was, I dragged Dylan along to go retrieve our newly married dumbass.

By the time we got there?

Jason was already three drinks in, sulking over his wife.

And let me tell you—drunk Jason was a whole experience.

First, he was muttering to himself about how "stupid Jake" was flirting with Ella.

Then, he started complaining about how Ella was his wife.

Then, five minutes later, he was clutching his whiskey glass like a heartbroken teenage girl, whining about how his marriage was a "war zone."

And when Dylan and I tried to reason with him?

He just waved his drink around dramatically, saying, "I should fight back, right?! Or is that the whiskey talking?!"

Yeah.

Jason King was down bad.

After a solid thirty minutes of Jason moping and drowning himself in whiskey, he suddenly stood up.

"I’m going to my wife."

Dylan and I exchanged looks.

Oh, this was going to be good.

Drunk Jason vs. Pissed-Off Ella?

This was reality TV-level entertainment.

But as much as we wanted to witness the drama firsthand, we weren’t about to let him drive in his current state.

Cue the ten-minute wrestling match for his car keys.

Because, of course, Jason insisted that he was completely fine to drive.

Meanwhile, he was barely standing upright.

After some aggressive key-snatching and mild death threats, we finally stuffed him into the back seat.

That’s when the real dilemma hit.

Did we really want to take him back to his vengeful wife in this state?

Was the potential entertainment value worth the risk of Ella committing homicide?

Probably not.

"Yeah, if we drop him off, we’ll have to collect his dead body in the morning," Dylan muttered.

"Not worth it," I agreed, starting the car.

But Jason?

Oh, Jason was not having it.

The second I took a turn away from his house, he started yelling.

"TAKE ME TO MY WIFE!"

"Dude, you need to sleep this off first," I tried to reason.

"MY WIFE WANTS ME HOME!"

"Jason, buddy, I’m pretty sure Ella doesn’t—"

Before I could finish, he pulled out his phone and actually called her.

Dylan and I froze.

Oh, this was bad.

"Ella!" Jason slurred dramatically. "They are taking me away from you! They don’t want me to see you!"

My hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Oh, we are so dead.

"Jason, you idiot—" Dylan started, but Jason shushed him.

On the other end of the phone, Ella’s voice was sharp with concern.

"Jason? Are you drunk? Who are ’they’? Are you being kidnapped?"

Kidnapped.

Freaking kidnapped.

Dylan facepalmed. I resisted the urge to drive us off a cliff.

Forgetting that Ella was still on the phone, Jason yelled at me again.

"MY WIFE WANTS ME HOME! SHE TOLD YOU TO BRING ME HOME!"

He sounded so proud of himself, like he just won a battle.

I sighed.

Yep. We were officially screwed.

Dylan and I just stared at each other, processing our impending deaths.

"Did... did he just tattle on us to Ella?" Dylan whispered, horrified.

"Yes," I said, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"And did she just think we were kidnapping him?"

"Yep."

"...We’re so dead."

Jason, meanwhile, was sitting in the backseat with a smug smile, looking like he just won the lottery.

"See?" he slurred. "She wants me home."

Dylan turned to me, deadpan. "Guess we’re taking him home."

"Do we have a choice?" I sighed, making a U-turn.

Jason cheered.

This fool.

He had no idea that we were delivering him to the lion’s den.

ELLA’S POV

Jason was drunk.

And apparently, being kidnapped.

By Max and Dylan.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

I had barely recovered from my hangover, and now this?

I glanced at the time. It was past close to midnight.

This man was testing my patience.

The doorbell rang.

I already knew who it was.

I swung the door open, arms crossed.

And there he was.

Jason King.

Drunk, grinning, and swaying slightly.

Max and Dylan stood behind him, looking exhausted.

"Here," Max said. "Take your husband before he calls the cops on us for ’abduction.’"

Jason stumbled forward and immediately wrapped his arms around me.

"My wife," he mumbled into my hair. "You’re so pretty."

I froze.

Dylan coughed to cover his laugh.

Max held up his hands. "Okay, he’s your problem now. We did our part. Goodnight."

And with that, they ran for their lives.

Cowards.

Jason nuzzled closer.

"Ella..." He sighed dreamily. "My beautiful wife. My evil, terrifying wife."

I rolled my eyes.

"Alright, Romeo. Inside. Now."

JASON’S POV

I felt warm.

And safe.

Which was weird, because usually, being around Ella felt like being near a nuclear bomb.

Maybe I was dreaming?

I cracked one eye open.

Nope. Not dreaming.

I was on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, with Ella sitting on the coffee table, arms crossed, watching me like a hawk.

"You’re awake," she said flatly.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. My head throbbed.

"Why am I on the couch?" I muttered.

She raised an eyebrow. "You don’t remember?"

I tried.

Flashes of the night hit me.

Whiskey.

Max and Dylan dragging me.

Calling Ella.

Oh.

Oh no.

"...I may have made a mistake," I admitted slowly.

Her lips twitched.

Oh hell no—was she amused?

"You were very... expressive," she said.

I squinted at her. "Define expressive."

"You clung to me like a koala and told me I was beautiful. Then you called me terrifying."

I groaned, covering my face.

"Also," she continued, "you announced to Max and Dylan that I was ’yours’ and then fell asleep in my lap."

I wanted to die.

She smirked.

"Don’t worry, darling. I got it all on video."

I sat up so fast I almost fell off the couch.

"YOU WHAT?!"

Ella laughed.

Not a sarcastic or bitter laugh.

A real, genuine laugh.

And for some stupid reason, even through my hangover misery, my heart skipped a beat.