The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Jason’s POV:

One minute, I was feeling on top of the world, knowing I had something to hold over the waitress’s head—Ella, or Elly, whatever she wanted to call herself. It was all part of the plan. Win the bet, get my revenge, and walk away without a scratch. But then, Max came running over, grinning like an idiot, practically shouting about how she’d agreed to go for a ride with him once he got his stupid motorbike license.

The fuck?

Knowing Max, it would take him all of one chance to get into a girl’s pants. Hell no. Not with her. Not with the girl I had plans for. A surge of possessiveness ran through me so fast, it caught me off guard. Why did it even bother me? If Max managed to fool her into sleeping with him, it would have been another bonus for me, right? Max could get her dirty pictures, maybe even use them to blackmail her, and that would make my plan so much easier.

But something about it didn’t sit right. The idea of Max touching her, of anyone else being with her, pissed me off. I didn’t want it to happen. No—fuck that—I wasn’t going to let it happen.

She was mine. Mine to destroy, mine to control...and, if I was being brutally honest with myself, mine to fuck. Damn. The realization hit me harder than I expected. I wanted her in more ways than I cared to admit, and it wasn’t until the thought of Max making a move on her entered my head that I realized just how deep this ran.

Fuck.

I tried to shake it off. It wasn’t about her specifically—it couldn’t be. I just hadn’t gotten laid in a while. That’s all this was. Just some pent-up frustration I could handle if I found someone else to take care of it. Amber, maybe. She was always around, and it wouldn’t be the first time I used her to blow off steam.

Yeah, that’s what I needed. Amber. I’d call her over tonight, take care of this mess in my head before it spiraled any further.

Because there was no way I was about to let some girl—some waitress—mess with my head. Especially not one that I planned on taking down. I wasn’t going to jeopardize my friendship with Max or Dylan. I wasn’t going to go behind their backs for her. No, this was just another game. And I always win.

Still, the thought gnawed at me. The way she got under my skin, the way her blue eyes seemed to mock me, even when she wasn’t trying. I couldn’t let her win. I wouldn’t. She was mine to deal with, mine to control, and mine to ruin when the time was right.

But for now, I had to play it cool. Get through this stupid project, keep my head in the game, and remind myself that I was in control. Max could have his fantasies, but that’s all they’d ever be. Fantasies.

Because she was mine. Whether she knew it yet or not.

We parted ways earlier than usual since Max and Dylan still had to work on their project. I was supposed to head home, rest up before Amber came over, but instead, I found myself in the alley again, waiting for Ella. If I’m being honest, I had no idea why I was here. Something just drew me back, like I needed to see her again.

Here she comes.

This time, she wasn’t wearing that ridiculous wig or that stupid baseball cap. She was back in her hoodie and mask, her real hair spilling out from under the black hood. And it wasn’t the dull, lifeless brown I had half-expected—it was golden, shining in the dim streetlights. It was... beautiful. I wondered what it would feel like between my fingers, soft and smooth.

She hadn’t noticed me yet. I was leaning against the wall, watching her approach. Just as she passed by me, I didn’t hesitate. Grabbing her arm, I pushed her back against the wall and pinned her wrists before she could react—no way was I letting her spray me again. She gasped from the impact, and then, in typical Ella fashion, she unleashed a string of curses that would make a sailor proud.

"Shh, Blue Eyes. It’s me," I said, hoping to calm her down. But her eyes flashed with anger, and she tried to knee me in the balls—again. But this time, I was ready. I wedged my thigh between her legs, immobilizing her. "I told you, I’ve got a generation to preserve," I muttered with a smirk, half-joking to lighten the mood. But she wasn’t amused..

"What the hell do you want now?" she spat, clearly annoyed.

"Don’t go out with Max," I told her, my voice lower than I intended.

She laughed, a sharp, defiant sound. She laughed—actually laughed. "All this because you thought I was going on that stupid ride he suggested? Wow. I wasn’t planning on going, but now that I know it bothers you... maybe I will."

Her voice was full of challenge, and I hated it. I wanted to wipe that smugness right off her face. In a quick, frustrated motion, I reached up and yanked down her mask. She didn’t like that, not one bit. Another round of swearing poured from her lips, but I wasn’t listening to the words. My focus was entirely on those lips—on how they moved, on how close they were to me.

Damn, she looked even better with her natural hair framing her face. I’d caught glimpses of her before when she worked at the diner, but now, up close like this, I could finally see her. And something about her seemed familiar, like I’d seen her somewhere before.

But I didn’t care to figure that out right now.

Her lips kept moving, forming curses and insults aimed at me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I smirked, finding the perfect way to shut her up. Leaning down, I pressed my lips against hers.

Instant silence.