The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Jason’s POV:

Hey, I did warn her not to go with Max, but she didn’t listen. And I had to get back at her one way or another. People would think I’d gone soft if I let someone embarrass me and walk away easily. That’s not how I operate.

The moment the news went viral, both Max and Dylan barged into my place early in the morning. They knew it was me. It was obvious. Max looked pissed, angrier than I thought he’d be. He tried to play it cool, but it wasn’t hard to see he was bothered.

Max actually had the nerve to confront me. Said I went too far. Too far? This was the guy who’d been bragging for days about how he’d take Elly—the "waitress," as he still didn’t know about the hoodie girl—on a romantic date, get her into bed, and win the bet. Now, suddenly, he’s all emotional about it? I had to tease him. Dylan joined in, and we both gave him hell, calling him soft, saying he was getting too emotional over a silly bet. Max denied it, of course, vehemently saying that wasn’t it. He just thought he had the upper hand on me, that he was ahead of the game. I proved him wrong by figuring out her secret first, didn’t I? 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

I didn’t regret posting about her. In fact, I was proud of myself for playing my cards right. Ella had it coming, and now the whole school knew she was a broke waitress hiding behind that hoodie. If she thought she could mess with me and get away with it, she was sorely mistaken. She made the wrong move going out with Max, and I made sure everyone knew who she really was.

Still, I noticed something about Max’s reaction that annoyed me. He seemed more invested than he should have been. Sure, it was a bet, but the way he talked about Elly now... something was off. Like he didn’t just see her as a bet anymore. That pissed me off more than I expected it to. Maybe it was because, despite everything, I didn’t want either of them getting too close to her.

But I had to save face. So I told them both the game was still on, that the bet was still very much alive. Whoever gets in her pants first wins. Of course, they had to come with solid proof. It was all a game, after all. That’s what I kept telling myself.

I hated that I gave them the go-ahead, though. As much as I didn’t want anyone else to touch her, I couldn’t let them know that. The thought of Max or Dylan getting close to her, touching her, just didn’t sit right with me. But I’d dug myself into this, and there was no turning back now.

I wouldn’t let anyone know how much she was getting under my skin. I’d just have to play along.

During the day at school, I expected Ella to crumble, to run away in the middle of class, maybe even cry or beg me to take the post down. I thought she’d break down, especially with the entire school buzzing about her secret. I mean, come on, I did a way better job than Amber ever could. But instead of panicking, she was... calm. Too calm.

She walked into business class, and I braced myself for her reaction. I thought she’d come charging at me, cursing like she always did when we were alone, maybe even throw something at me in front of everyone. I was ready for the show, ready for her to snap. But she didn’t. She didn’t even glance in my direction at first.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw the dirty plates everyone had placed on their desks, mocking her as if she was still a waitress. People were shouting fake orders at her, calling her names—"Church mouse," "beggar," and a few others I won’t even bother repeating. I figured she’d run out or yell. Hell, I’d been counting on it.

But instead, she just stood there, taking it all in for a moment, her eyes scanning the room. Then, she locked eyes with me, and I could see she was dumbfounded, hurt maybe. But that look didn’t last long. The fire I was expecting wasn’t there. No cursing, no tears, no reaction that gave me any satisfaction. She looked at me like I was beneath her, like I wasn’t even worth her time.

It pissed me off more than I thought it would.

She didn’t run away. She didn’t give me the reaction I’d been waiting for. Instead, she walked to the back of the class, her usual seat, plugged in her earphones, and just... sat there. As if none of this mattered. As if the entire school wasn’t tearing her apart at that very moment. She didn’t flinch. Not once.

I tried to brush it off, telling myself that she’d crack eventually. No one could withstand that level of humiliation without breaking. But as the day went on, I started to wonder. Maybe I hadn’t hit her as hard as I thought. Maybe she was tougher than I gave her credit for.

And for some reason, that bothered me. A lot.

As soon as the last class ended, she bolted. I knew she was trying to avoid the stares, the whispers, the constant mocking. I waited a moment before following her, making sure no one saw me slipping out behind her. She had her hoodie pulled low over her head, almost blending into the shadows as she moved quickly through the school grounds. She was heading toward Gate B, a clever move. Hardly anyone used that exit; she wouldn’t have to deal with more students, at least not directly.

But I wasn’t going to let her get away that easily.

I sped up my pace, closing the distance between us, and before she could realize what was happening, I grabbed her arm. Her head whipped around in shock, but I didn’t give her time to react. I pulled her behind the bleachers, dragging her to a spot where no one would see us, even if someone wandered this way. She resisted at first, cursing under her breath, her voice sharp and angry as usual.

The second we were out of sight, I reached up and yanked her hood and her mask down, revealing her plum lips and golden hair. It tumbled out, bright against her dark hoodie, the strands catching the light that filtered through the gaps in the bleachers. Her blue eyes blazed with anger, and I couldn’t look away. They always had this intensity that pulled me in, that made me feel... something. Something possessive. Those eyes—damn, they’d haunted me ever since the first time I saw them, and it pissed me off that I was so obsessed with her.

"Let go of me," she snapped, trying to jerk her arm out of my grip, but I tightened my hold.

"You really thought you could walk away without facing me?" I hissed. "After everything?"

Her eyes narrowed, and I could see the fight in her, that defiance that made me both furious and... intrigued. She didn’t crumble, even after everything I did to her. Even now, with my hand gripping her arm, with her secret out, she didn’t break.

"You’re pathetic, Jason," she said, her voice cold, dripping with disdain. "Is this what you wanted? For me to run away? Cry? Beg? Well, sorry to disappoint you."

She tried to pull away again, but I wasn’t letting her go that easily. I couldn’t. Not until... I didn’t even know. I just knew I couldn’t stand the way she was looking at me, like she was untouchable, like I didn’t get under her skin the way she got under mine.

"Don’t act like you don’t care," I spat, leaning in closer, forcing her to meet my gaze. "I know you do. You’re just too proud to admit it."

Ella didn’t flinch. She never did. Instead, she met my eyes with a defiance that sent a spark through me. She didn’t say anything, just stared at me, her jaw clenched, her lips pressed into a thin line.

It pissed me off more than anything she could have said.

"This is just a warning," I growled, tightening my grip on her wrist. "Don’t you dare go out with Dylan or Max again, or I will unleash something worse." I wanted her to obey. I needed her to listen this time. But the look in her eyes, that defiance, only ignited something darker inside me. It was like she reveled in pushing me, in resisting me, and it drove me insane. I hated that I couldn’t control this obsession with her. It made me want to punish her, to make her submit, to make sure no one else could have her but me.

And then she said it—those words that made something inside me snap. "It’s too late," she told me, her voice calm and cutting. "I promised Dylan I’d go to the movies with him. And if he shows up, despite today’s fiasco, I’m going with him."

Her words ignited a rage I hadn’t felt before, a possessiveness that blurred the line between anger and desire. I couldn’t stand the thought of her with anyone else, especially not Dylan. My hands clenched, and before I could stop myself, I grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to look up at me.

Without warning, I crushed my lips against hers, kissing her hard, vengefully, pouring all the anger and frustration into that kiss. She tried to push me away, her hands hitting my chest in protest, but I was stronger. I grabbed both of her wrists, pinning them behind her back with one hand, holding her in place as I deepened the kiss. She bit my lip—again—but this time, the pain only fueled me. The sharp sting of her bite sent a wave of heat through me, and I deepened the kiss, my grip on her tightening. I wanted to consume her, to make sure she knew who was in control. Her defiance, her struggle, only turned me on more, making me even harder than I already was.

Her resistance sent a thrill through me, a twisted sense of satisfaction in knowing that I was getting under her skin. I wanted to break her composure, to make her realize she couldn’t defy me, couldn’t escape me. The taste of her, the heat between us—it consumed me. I kissed her harder, more forcefully, until she was left gasping for breath, her body pressed against mine, completely at my mercy.

But even as I held her there, feeling her pulse race beneath my fingertips, I hated myself. Hated how much control she had over me, how obsessed I had become with her.

I hated that I was like this, hated that she brought out something so dark in me. But in that moment, none of it mattered. All I could think about was how much I wanted to claim her, to make sure no one else could have her.

She wasn’t going anywhere. Not with Dylan. Not with Max. She was mine.