The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

ELLA’S POV:

Then the cravings began.

And this time, I really wasn’t messing with Jason.

My belly had started to show, a small but undeniable bump, but right now, my thoughts weren’t on that. They were on fries. Hot, crispy, salty fries.

It was Friday, and after a long day at the office, I had come home early, collapsed on the couch, and fallen asleep. Jason wasn’t home yet, so it was just me and my exhaustion.

Well... until my stomach decided to wake me up.

I groggily blinked my eyes open, only to find my head resting on Jason’s lap as he scrolled through his phone, his free hand idly running through my hair.

"When did you get home?" I mumbled sleepily.

"A while ago," he said without looking up, still focused on whatever he was typing. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

I yawned, stretching slightly before a very important realization hit me.

I was starving.

I turned my head up to look at him, dramatically miserable. "I’m hungry," I announced, wasting no time in making my suffering known.

Jason finally looked down at me, chuckling. "Good, I made dinner."

That got my attention. I sat up quickly, rubbing my belly. "Great. I want fries."

His amusement instantly faded, his expression falling. "I made lasagna."

I stared at him. He stared at me.

Lasagna?

I made a face. A very displeased, unimpressed, offended face.

Lasagna was fine—on a normal day. But today was not a normal day. Today, I wanted fries. And I was going to get fries.

Jason sighed, running a hand down his face like he already knew where this was going.

"Ella..." he started.

I folded my arms, completely ignoring whatever speech he was about to give me. "Fries," I repeated, just in case he didn’t hear me the first time.

He groaned. "You’re impossible."

I shrugged. "Your son wants fries."

His lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. "Oh, so now that you’re craving something, it’s my son?"

"Exactly."

Jason let out a long, defeated sigh, already reaching for his car keys.

Victory.

Jason let out a long, dramatic sigh, already reaching for his car keys. Defeated.

"You’re really making me go out at this hour for fries?" he muttered, more to himself than to me.

I grinned, sitting up fully on the couch. "Your son is making you go out for fries."

Jason shot me a look. "Right. My son."

I nodded seriously. "He has very specific tastes. And right now, he wants hot, crispy, salty fries. Not lasagna." I made a face at the word, just to drive my point home.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath before standing up. "You’re spoiled, you know that?"

I leaned back against the couch, smug. "I’m pregnant. That’s the same thing."

Jason rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Because we both knew he was going to get me those fries.

As he grabbed his jacket, I swung my legs off the couch, shifting to get more comfortable. "Oh, and get extra ketchup," I added casually.

Jason froze at the door, turning to squint at me. I knew that look. The ’I’m about to argue but I know I’ll lose’ look.

I smiled sweetly. "Please?"

He exhaled slowly, then pointed at me. "You’re lucky you’re pregnant."

I fluttered my lashes at him. "I know."

With another groan, he turned and walked out the door, officially on a mission for fries.

I stretched, placing a hand on my belly as I settled back into the cushions. This baby was going to be the best excuse for cravings, emotional outbursts, and getting what I wanted for the next few months.

And honestly?

I wasn’t mad about it.

The fries were amazing. Perfectly crispy, salty, and exactly what I needed.

Did I share with Jason? Absolutely not.

He tried—oh, he tried. Gave me those pleading eyes, even attempted the "but I went out in the cold to get them" argument. But I stayed strong. These fries were mine.

And Jason, being the stubborn but ultimately smart man that he was, let it go. Mostly.

But something had changed between us.

This pregnancy—his son growing inside me—had brought us closer in ways I hadn’t expected. I didn’t know when or how it started, but somehow, I had broken all the rules I had set.

Rules I had been so sure about.

Like staying on my side of the bed? Yeah, that was long gone.

At first, I told myself it was just the pregnancy. The hormones, the exhaustion, the fact that Jason’s side of the bed was just...warmer.

But then, it became routine.

Every morning, I’d wake up and realize I had crossed the invisible barrier I had once been so adamant about. And not just crossed it—I had latched onto Jason like he was my own personal oversized teddy bear. Arms wrapped around him, legs tangled with his, face buried in his chest.

And the worst part?

He never said a word about it.

Never teased me, never pushed me away. Just let me hold onto him like he was something safe, something steady.

At first, I tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal, blaming it on the pregnancy. But after a while, I stopped making excuses—because I wasn’t the only one doing it anymore.

Now?

Jason held me too.

Sometimes, I’d wake up to find his arm draped over my waist, his hand resting protectively on my belly. Other times, I’d be the one tangled up in him, and he’d simply tighten his hold, like he was just as unwilling to let go as I was.

It was strange, this new closeness between us. Strange, but undeniably real.

And even though I refused to say it out loud, I didn’t hate it.

Not at all.

That night, Jason was holding me as we slept—not that I was complaining. His body was warm, his arm draped over my waist, his slow, steady breaths tickling the back of my neck. It was comfortable. Safe.

But then, it hit me.

The craving.

I didn’t know what time it was, didn’t care. All I knew was that I needed chocolate. Immediately.

I shifted, trying to wiggle free from Jason’s hold, but his grip only tightened slightly in response.

"Stop moving around," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

I huffed. "I’m hungry."

No response.

He was choosing to ignore me. Rude.

I squirmed again. "Jason."

Nothing.

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play this? Fine.

I turned in his arms, pressing my face into his chest. "Jason, I want chocolate," I whined, dragging out the words for extra effect.

He sighed. Heavily. The kind of sigh that said he was reconsidering all of his life choices that led him to this moment.

"Ella..." His voice was still rough with sleep. "It’s the middle of the night."

"And?" I blinked up at him, innocent.

"And that means everything is closed."

I gasped dramatically. "Are you saying you can’t find chocolate for your pregnant, hormonal wife who is carrying your child?"

His arm over my waist twitched, like he was fighting between getting up or strangling me with a pillow.

I pouted, pressing my advantage. "Jason..."

Another sigh, this one even heavier. He rubbed a hand over his face before finally cracking open an eye to glare at me in the darkness.

"Ella," he said slowly, "I swear if I get up to find you chocolate, and you fall asleep before I come back, I will—"

"I won’t!" I cut in quickly. "I promise! I need it."

He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "I should’ve worn a condom" before throwing the blanket off and rolling out of bed.