The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Ella POV:

Oh, did I mention how after Amber’s little snake attack, Max and Dylan decided to run up to me, all eager, practically falling over themselves, asking me to be their plus one for the party? Both of them. Like I was about to pick between Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

I tried to ignore them, but they were like overgrown puppies—relentless and annoying. I managed to shake them off long enough to get to work, thinking I’d finally get some peace. But guess who shows up at the diner? Yep. Those two idiots again.

Apparently, since their precious Captain Jason wasn’t available, their coach decided to cancel practice. Something about wanting Jason there for a new technique and the weather being garbage. And now that they had no excuse to be on the field, they thought the next best way to spend their time was to follow me around like lost puppies.

"Come on, Ella, it’ll be fun! Just think about it," Max whined, leaning against the counter as if he belonged there.

Dylan, with that goofy grin plastered on his face, added, "Yeah, we’re not asking for much. Just be my plus one. It’ll make the night way more interesting!"

As if I would. Like, seriously? Even if by some miracle, I did consider going as anyone’s plus one, Max and Dylan would be the absolute last on my list. Everyone knows they’re practically royalty on campus. The second they show up anywhere, cameras start flashing like it’s the Oscars. And me? Well, if I walk in with them, I might as well be holding a neon sign that says, ’Hey world, here’s Ella Kingsley!’ and that would be the end of my low-profile life.

The whole idea was absurd. Going with them would be like volunteering to step in front of a firing squad—paparazzi everywhere, eyes glued to us, and my face plastered on every gossip site by morning. No thanks.

"Guys, guys! I already said no," I snapped, barely holding onto what little patience I had left. "No means no! Now get the hell out of my face!" I practically growled, feeling my frustration bubbling over.

Max and Dylan both blinked at me, like two clueless puppies who didn’t understand why their owner was suddenly yelling. Max even had the nerve to give me that puppy-dog pout, like it was going to work this time.

"But—" Max started, and I shot him a glare so sharp it could’ve cut glass.

"Argh!" I threw my hands up in the air, officially at my limit. If these idiots didn’t get out of my space in the next ten seconds, I was going to lose it completely. "I said no, now buzz off!"

Dylan raised his hands in surrender, clearly trying to ease the situation. "Alright, alright, we’re going! Geez, didn’t know you were this serious."

"Dead serious," I muttered under my breath, rubbing my temples as I watched them finally retreat.

They weren’t bad guys, but god, sometimes I wonder if their brains ever worked in sync with their mouths. It’s like they forgot how to take ’no’ for an answer. I just needed to get through the day without strangling anyone. Was that too much to ask?

Now, if only I could get a quiet moment to actually think about what I was going to do about this LBJ party. Ugh.

"You know, mad Ella is scary Ella," Max commented, like he was stating some kind of universal truth, his voice a little too casual for my liking.

I turned to glare at him, arching a brow. "Well, Max, if you didn’t know," I said in a tone dripping with sarcasm, "pissed Ella is even scarier. She’s murderous."

Max blinked, probably debating whether I was joking or actually plotting his untimely demise. Dylan snickered beside him, clearly amused by the whole thing.

"Yeah, man, don’t push her any further," Dylan added, shaking his head like I was some ticking time bomb. "I like my head where it is, thanks."

Max raised his hands defensively, backing up a little. "Alright, alright. Message received. No more pushing scary Ella."

"Good," I muttered, still glaring at him, though internally, I was fighting the urge to roll my eyes. These guys just had to push every single one of my buttons, didn’t they?

"Elly, I don’t pay you to flirt!" my boss shouted from his so-called office—a glorified broom closet if you ask me, barely bigger than a storage space. His voice echoed through the diner, making a few customers glance our way.

I whipped my head around, throwing him a look that could kill. "I’m not flirting," I snapped back, my voice sharp, though inside, I was rolling my eyes. Of course, he’d assume that. God forbid I talk to anyone who happens to be male.

Max and Dylan, the two human disasters that they are, both raised their hands in unison, as if in surrender, trying to act innocent. "Whoa, whoa, not flirting!" Max chimed in, grinning. "Just, uh, placing an order."

Dylan nodded along, a little too eagerly. "Yeah, man, just some very complicated food talk going on here."

"Out!" I hissed at them under my breath. "Both of you! Before I get fired, again." yeah, again last time is because I refused the shitty uniform he bought but since the work force was small he called me back to work after ten minutes of firing me.

They quickly scrambled toward the door, but not without Max throwing one last cheeky grin my way. "Catch you later, scary Ella!"

"Yeah, and pray you live to see it," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head as they finally left.

My boss glared at me one more time before retreating to his office—or, well, the closet—and I let out a long, frustrated sigh. Flirting? Really? As if I have time to flirt while juggling my job, school, this stupid competition, and keeping my life from falling apart. Some days, I swear, everyone’s out to test my patience.

Today’s weather was clearly in sync with my mood: gloomy, heavy, and just plain miserable. Not that I was a fan of rain. And, of course, I didn’t have an umbrella with me. Perfect. What a fabulous way to wrap up an already horrible day.

My shift had finally ended, and the rain had settled into a light drizzle. I stood at the entrance, eyeing the wet streets and calculating the best route to avoid being completely drenched. Spoiler alert: no matter which way I took, I was going to end up soaked. Great.

Sighing, I stuffed my hands into my hoodie pockets, resigned to my fate. By the time I’d get home, I’d probably look like a drowned rat. But hey, at least I’d have a little extra time to work on that project for the LBJ Company. If I was lucky, I could wrap up a few more details and maybe, just maybe, sneak in a solid one or two hours of sleep before class tomorrow.

So, instead of waiting the rain out like any sane person would do, I took a deep breath, braced myself, and stepped out into the downpour.

The cold droplets hit me immediately, soaking through my hoodie within minutes. My shoes splashed in the puddles, making that squish-squash noise that was almost as annoying as this entire day had been. But I pushed on, determined to get home early. My project wasn’t going to finish itself, and sleep wasn’t exactly an option with deadlines breathing down my neck.

As I walked, I couldn’t help but grumble at the universe for its obvious vendetta against me. Of course, the one day I forgot my umbrella, it rains. And of course, it had to happen on the day Max and Dylan decided to turn my workplace into their personal hangout.

"Just get home," I muttered to myself, picking up my pace. "Finish the project, present it, and then maybe, just maybe, your life will stop being one big cosmic joke."

But I knew better than that.

"Didn’t your mother tell you not to walk in the rain?"

That voice. The one that’s so annoyingly familiar now. I didn’t even need to turn my head to know who it was. As if on cue, an umbrella was raised beside me, shielding me from the rain.