The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Ella’s POV:

Okay, so maybe Max wasn’t as helpless as I pegged him to be. He actually waited for me until my shift ended, and I was almost impressed. Jason and Dylan had already left—Dylan had to take the drunken, pissed-off Jason home. Max was all smiles, practically bouncing on his heels with excitement.

Taking the extra helmet he handed me, I couldn’t help but curse Jason under my breath. *This is all his fault!* If he hadn’t annoyed me so much, I wouldn’t be stuck in this predicament, going out with Max of all people.

As we hit the road, Max drove so slowly that I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. "Seriously, Max, are you trying to give me a nap back here? You drive like an old man!"

Max shot me a mock offended look, his eyes wide with feigned indignation. "Hey! This is a high-powered machine! You don’t just rush into things like a reckless teenager!"

"Oh please," I teased. "If I wanted a tortoise ride, I’d have stayed at the diner."

After a few more minutes of teasing, he finally took my ribbing and sped up a little. I felt the wind whipping through my hair and couldn’t help but grin. But then, suddenly, he went a little ahead before stopping completely.

Turning his head around, he removed his helmet with a flourish and challenged me, "Wanna give it a go?"

His smirk said he knew I wouldn’t agree. And me being the girl who never backed down from a challenge wasn’t about to start now. I had ridden motorbikes a lot in my high school days, much to my father’s displeasure.

"Sure," I said confidently, climbing off the bike. "But first, you need to move back a bit. I’ll show you how a pro does it."

Max rolled his eyes, pretending to be unimpressed. "A pro, huh? I’ll believe it when I see it." He moved back, a teasing grin still plastered on his face.

As I settled onto the bike, I adjusted the helmet and felt the familiar thrill bubbling inside me. I kicked the bike to life and revved the engine, the sound roaring beneath me like music. "Hold on tight!" I called back, and he let out a whoop of excitement, clambering onto the seat behind me.

"Just don’t kill us!" he laughed nervously.

"Don’t worry, I’ve got this!" I assured him, feeling exhilarated as I accelerated forward.

We zipped through the streets, and I could hear Max laughing behind me. "Okay, maybe you’re not such a bad driver after all!"

I smirked, loving the rush of speed. "Maybe? You’ll have to admit I’m better than you!"

He tightened his arms around my waist, and my heart skipped a beat at the sudden intimacy. "Alright, you’re definitely better than me!"

We weaved through the streets, and I felt free. The wind tugged at my hair, and I couldn’t help but laugh as Max’s laughter echoed in my ears. It felt good—really good—to let go of the stress and just enjoy the ride.

After a while, I spotted a quiet park and decided to slow down, pulling into a nearby parking lot. I turned off the engine and looked over at Max, who had a goofy grin plastered on his face.

"That was amazing!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "You really are a pro!"

I couldn’t help but smile at his excitement. "Thanks! But you should probably work on your driving skills if you want to keep up with me."

He chuckled, the sound infectious. "Maybe I’ll just stick to being your passenger. You make it look too easy."

"Well, if you’re not careful, I might just leave you behind on the next ride!" I teased, tossing my hair over my shoulder dramatically.

Max laughed again, and in that moment, the tension from earlier melted away. It was just us, two friends enjoying a night out.

"Hey, want to grab some ice cream or something?" he suggested, still grinning.

"Only if you promise not to drive like an old man this time!" I shot back, and he nodded, looking determined.

"Deal!"

As we walked toward the ice cream stand, I felt light and carefree, a smile plastered on my face. Despite the craziness that had led me here, I was genuinely enjoying myself. And for the first time in a while, I felt like maybe this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Max’s POV:

Oh shit, who would’ve thought that I, Max Carter, would actually enjoy hanging out with a girl without just thinking about getting her into bed? Elly—man, she completely blew my mind. She wasn’t like the other girls I’ve been around. She wasn’t trying to be all girly, batting her eyelashes, or acting helpless just to get me to notice her. No, she was something else.

I had teased her, thinking she’d play the part like most girls—act all cute and say, "Oh, Max, I can’t drive this thing!" or whatever. But nope. She didn’t even flinch. She hopped onto my motorbike like she had something to prove. And damn, did she prove it. She drove like a pro. That wasn’t just hot—it was unexpected, refreshing even.

For the first time in... I don’t even know how long, I wasn’t just thinking about banging a girl while we hung out. As we sat there, eating ice cream and laughing, I felt different—like I was genuinely enjoying the moment. Elly wasn’t trying to impress me, stroke my ego, or hang around me because of my dad’s name, my friendship with Jason, or some lame status thing. Most girls just wanted to say they were with me for the bragging rights. But Elly? She was curious about me. She asked real questions, actually wanted to know what I was into, what I wanted to do after campus.

Everyone assumes I’m going to follow in my dad’s footsteps and join the family business—hell, that’s what I’m studying, business. But no one’s ever asked if that’s what I ’want’. Not Dylan, not Jason, not even my parents. When I told Elly I wanted to go into entertainment, she didn’t laugh or act surprised. She just listened, nodded, and encouraged me to go after what I want. She even offered to help, though it was kind of funny. I mean, she’s just managing to hold onto her waitress job—how could she help me with my career? Still, her offer wasn’t empty. She genuinely wanted to support me, and that... that felt different.

I didn’t try anything with her. I couldn’t. I felt guilty even thinking about the bet with the guys. The way she was talking to me, the way we were vibing—I wasn’t about to ruin that by trying to get in her pants.

When the night was over, she had me drop her off a few blocks away from her place. She said she didn’t want me to know where she lived, and I respected that. It wasn’t like she was being shady or anything; I could tell she just wanted her privacy, and I could appreciate that.

As I rode back to my place, I texted the group: **Mission failed.** And, of course, Dylan started laughing at me, probably happy that he still had a shot with her. We teased each other, saying the game wasn’t over yet, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was betraying Elly. She wasn’t just some bet, not anymore.

I shook myself, reminding myself that this was supposed to be a stupid game. A bet. Something to be won. But I couldn’t help feeling like maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to win this one. Not if it meant hurting her.

Jason’s POV:

Stupid waitress. Stupid hoodie girl. Stupid Elly—Ella—whatever she calls herself. Fuck, I can’t believe I got drunk because of her. She was messing with my head, twisting my thoughts, driving me crazy, and it pissed me off. I was still fuming even after waking up with a pounding headache an hour later.

I grabbed my phone, hoping for some kind of relief, some news that maybe Elly had ditched Max halfway through their stupid date. But no, there was nothing. No update. No alert. No text. Nothing. My mind wandered to the worst possible scenario—what if Max had charmed her and was screwing her right now? The thought of Max and Elly together made my blood boil. I wanted to punch something. No, I needed to do more than that.

Fury fueling me, I grabbed my laptop, ready to unleash my revenge. She wanted to play games? Fine. Let’s play. I found the photo I had of her in the diner, that stupid waitress uniform. Then, I paired it with the image of her in her hoodie. It was perfect. I created an anonymous, untraceable post on the school website, connecting the dots for everyone to see—Hoodie Girl and the waitress were the same person.

I didn’t stop there. No. I spun the story further, adding just the right amount of venom. I implied she was hiding her face under the hoodie because she was ashamed of being a poor, low-class beggar who didn’t belong at our elite university. I knew how people in this school would react. They thrived on tearing others down, especially someone they thought didn’t belong in their world.

There. That’ll teach her. I clicked "post," closed my laptop, and leaned back, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction. She should’ve never messed with me. Disobeyed me. I had warned her, and now she was getting exactly what she deserved.

I stood up, grabbed some aspirin and water, and downed them to soothe my headache. After a few minutes, I checked the school website, and sure enough, my post was already trending. Hundreds of views, dozens of comments piling up. The backlash had begun. People were calling her out, mocking her, tearing her apart. Good. Let her feel the humiliation.

But then, my phone buzzed. I opened the group chat, and there it was. Max had texted: **Mission failed.**

I stared at the message for a second, stunned. Failed?

That meant she hadn’t let Max in, hadn’t fallen for his charms. She didn’t sleep with him. A wave of relief hit me, but it was immediately followed by guilt. What had I just done? I had already set the wheels in motion. The post was live, and the damage was done.

Fuck.