The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Max’s POV: 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

People say I’m a joker, always goofing around, never serious. Well, they’re right. Mostly. What they don’t get is that half the things I say, even when I’m joking, are actually true. Take, for example, Ella choosing to go with Jason to the party. I really hated it. Jason said she would be his plus-one, though honestly, I thought she’d have better taste than that. And let’s be real, "charming" is not exactly Jason’s strong suit, no matter what he thinks.

But when they walked into that party, I swear, every jaw in the room dropped. Ella looked like she’d just stepped off the cover of some high-fashion magazine. Her hair—her golden hair, which I’d never actually seen without it being tucked under some cap or hood—was falling in these perfect waves around her shoulders. She was dazzling, and don’t roll your eyes at me for knowing fashion, okay? I might joke around, but I did say I had a passion for entertainment. It’s called research. I’m not that lazy. Plus, in the media world, you’ve got to know your designers if you want to keep up with the who’s-who of society.

And that dress? No way was that off the rack. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was by Francis, a world-renowned designer whose dresses could buy a small island. This dress wasn’t some knockoff, either. The fabric alone practically screamed "original." So, who was this girl? Was she pretending to be someone she wasn’t? Did she have a secret sugar daddy funding her wardrobe, and that’s why she didn’t pay any attention to guys like me or Dylan? I had questions. And not just your casual "what’s your favorite color?" kind of questions.

Jason, the smug bastard, made sure the press got a good look at her as soon as they walked in. I was practically biting through my own tongue, I was so irritated. He was showing her off like she was his prize, and yeah, I was jealous. Not that I’d admit it to him, of course. The second they entered the main hall, I dragged Dylan over, and we both made a beeline for Ella. I didn’t care that she was technically Jason’s date. As far as I was concerned, she was still fair game. Much to Jason’s annoyance, Dylan and I started talking to her, throwing every charming line we could think of to make her laugh, trying to win her attention. But of course, Jason had to ruin it by pulling the classic "bro code" card. He was like, "She’s my date, guys." Ugh. So, Dylan and I reluctantly backed off, and Jason swept her onto the dance floor.

Watching them waltz was torture. I kept imagining it was me dancing with her, my arm around her waist, her laugh ringing in my ear. But there was something else too—a little part of me was just impressed. Here was Ella, a girl who supposedly waited tables, out there gliding across the floor like she was born to it. She didn’t just dance; she owned the dance floor. You’d think she’d been trained in one of those elite finishing schools where they teach you how to waltz before you can walk. I felt my jealousy flare up again, not just because she was with Jason, but because she had this whole side to her that none of us really knew.

And then—oh, this was the best part of the night—she put Amber in her place. That witch didn’t even recognize Ella, which, honestly, was the cherry on top. Watching Amber’s face go from smug to shocked was like witnessing a work of art. Dylan and I were practically howling with laughter. Here was Ella, throwing Amber’s snobbery right back in her face without breaking a sweat. It was a thing of beauty. If I wasn’t already crushing on her, that little moment would’ve sealed the deal.

Then came the waiter incident. Now, Jason is not known for his patience. Heck, the guy’s got a reputation for making people cry with a single icy glare. So when a waiter tripped and spilled his tray all over Jason, I thought, "This is it. We’re about to witness a live meltdown." I braced myself for impact, expecting Jason to unleash his inner tyrant on the poor guy. But before he could even say a word, Ella was at the waiter’s side, helping him up like some kind of angel. It was incredible. And to my shock, Jason actually chilled out. Like, he didn’t say a single rude word. It was a miracle. I wanted to give Ella a standing ovation right there. Somehow, she’d managed to calm the beast.

Then, of course, Jason had to go and change into an even fancier suit. Typical. When he reappeared, the MC announced him as the CEO of LBJ Company. Now, I wasn’t exactly surprised. Jason’s been a go-getter since day one. By the time we hit campus, he was already obsessing over starting his own company, and by our second year, he’d done it. But I had no idea it had turned into the LBJ Company. That little reveal gave him a massive head start in the "who-can-impress-Ella-more" race. The guy was already winning, and now he’d gone and pulled out the big guns.

As Jason started his big speech, I noticed Ella standing off to the side, alone. Dylan and I both saw our chance and made a beeline for her again, practically tripping over each other to get there. We found ourselves right back where we started, each trying to out-charm the other. Finally, I suggested we go congratulate Jason, mostly because I could tell we were boring Ella with our bickering. But boy, was that a mistake.

We’d barely turned our backs when the sly fox went in for the kill. I glanced over just in time to see him lean in and steal a kiss from her. I felt my heart plummet to my stomach. And the reporters—oh, the vultures—had a field day, snapping pictures like their lives depended on it. Dylan and I were frozen in shock. He actually kissed her. The bastard got there first. But my heart soared when I saw Ella’s reaction—she was furious. Her eyes could’ve burned a hole right through him. I couldn’t help but smirk. That’s my girl. She wasn’t going to fall for his smooth-talking nonsense.

Ella turned to leave in a huff, which was probably the worst move she could’ve made. The paparazzi pounced on her like she was fresh meat. Cameras flashing, people shouting questions, it was chaos. Dylan, Jason, and I jumped into action, forming a human shield around her. We flanked her on all sides, pushing back reporters, trying to create a safe path to the exit. Jason, already barking orders like some kind of wannabe superhero, flagged down his car. I didn’t love the idea of her leaving with him, but it was either that or let her get eaten alive by the paparazzi.

As Jason’s car pulled up, Dylan and I held back the press while he took her arm and led her out. But not without a few casualties. One particularly aggressive cameraman was shoving his camera right in my face, trying to get a clear shot of Ella as she slipped into the car. The idiot jammed his camera so close, he practically whacked me in the eye. Pain shot through my face, but I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t about to let some punk with a camera ruin my night.

By the time the car pulled away with Jason and Ella safely inside, Dylan and I were left bruised and exhausted, but strangely satisfied. I looked over at Dylan, and he was sporting a few scratches himself. "Not bad for a night’s work, huh?" I said, trying to play it cool, though my face was throbbing from the camera assault. Dylan just rolled his eyes, muttering something about the lengths we go to for a girl who doesn’t even notice us.

As we finally escaped the swarm of reporters and made our way out of the hall, I couldn’t help but laugh. Here we were, two grown men, practically battered and bruised, and all for the chance to impress a girl who thought of us as her friends at best. But I’d do it all over again. And I knew Dylan would too, even if he’d never admit it.

That night left me with questions I still can’t shake. Ella wasn’t just some waitress. There was something different about her, something that didn’t quite fit. The designer dress, the way she held herself, how she seemed to know exactly how to navigate Jason’s world—none of it added up. Was she hiding something? Was she more than she seemed? All I knew was that whatever game Jason was playing, I wasn’t about to let him win without a fight.

With a sly grin, I turned to Dylan. "So, what’s the plan, partner? We can’t let Mr. CEO steal all the glory."

He sighed, giving me that look that said, "I know you’re crazy, but I’m with you." And as we walked off into the night, I felt a surge of determination. Jason might’ve stolen that kiss, but this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.