The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Max POV:

I shouldn’t have thought it. I shouldn’t have let that suspicion creep into my mind, shouldn’t have voiced it to Jason and Dylan, and definitely shouldn’t have laughed about it like it was some far-fetched joke. Because now, right in front of me, it feels like that crazy thought is slapping me in the face.

Ella—the girl who’d practically built a reputation on being tough and self-sufficient—was sitting with some older guy in a suit that probably cost more than my car, looking all... close with him. Like, sweet. Her eyes were bright, like she was talking to someone she trusted, someone she knew well. And I just... I couldn’t believe it.

This was Ella. She wasn’t the kind of person to sugar-coat things, to let someone else make her way for her. Right? But now, that small voice in my head—the one I wish I could ignore—was whispering, What if you were right all along? What if she’s got someone rich behind her? And it was impossible to shut that voice up.

I glanced at Jason and Dylan, and they looked just as lost as I felt. None of us could look away, all of us too stunned to do anything but watch. I almost wanted to pinch myself, to make sure I was really seeing this. Because this just... couldn’t be right.

God, please let this be some bizarre dream.

After finishing whatever quiet conversation she was having, Ella escorted the old guy out of the diner. She gave him a small wave as he walked off, then turned back toward us. The second her eyes landed on us, I saw it—a flicker of surprise. Just for a second. Like she hadn’t expected to see us watching.

But, as quickly as it came, that flash of surprise was gone. Her expression settled back to normal, a casual calm that almost made me doubt what I’d seen. She didn’t flinch, didn’t stammer, didn’t explain herself. She just walked back behind the counter, picking up her order pad like it was any other day, like she didn’t have three guys staring at her with questions practically bursting out of their eyes.

She didn’t even seem fazed by the fact that we’d seen her with him. No nervous glances, no shifty looks, just pure nonchalance. If she was hiding something, she was playing it off like a pro. Meanwhile, the three of us looked like idiots, just standing there, dumbfounded.

Dylan finally broke the silence, mumbling under his breath, "She just... acted like nothing happened."

"Yeah," I muttered, barely able to tear my gaze away from her, "like it’s the most normal thing in the world to have some fancy old guy in a suit show up at her work."

Jason crossed his arms, looking just as baffled as the rest of us. "There’s no way that was nothing," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. "There’s... gotta be some kind of explanation."

I wanted to believe that, wanted to hold onto any excuse that would make this make sense. But that flicker in her eyes—the surprise that turned to stone in an instant—kept replaying in my mind. I knew Ella well enough to know she didn’t usually hide things. She was blunt, fierce, independent. But now? Now, I was starting to wonder what else she might be hiding behind that cool facade.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find out.

ELLA POV:

Okay, this is just plain weird and annoying. Why are these idiots looking at me like I’m some kind of criminal? Don’t they know how to mind their own business? And, of course, to make my day worse, it had to be me who was assigned to serve them. Ugh.

I walked over to their table, and they just kept staring, looking like I’d just stomped on all their dreams. Unfazed, I tapped my pen on my notepad and asked, "So, what can I get you boys?" in the most casual tone I could muster.

Max, of course, was the first to jump in with the question I knew was coming. "Who was that guy you were with?"

I rolled my eyes. "None of your business," I shot back, already done with this conversation.

But Dylan couldn’t help himself, either. "Is he your... um... your sponsor or something?"

A burst of laughter escaped me before I could stop it. Oh, this was too good! They really thought Mr. Harris was some kind of sugar daddy? The thought of it was just... wow. My laughter grew louder as I saw their faces twist in confusion and shock.

When I finally managed to control myself, I glanced down at my notepad. I scribble down their usual orders, ready to escape this ridiculous conversation.

As I scribbled down their orders, I tried not to smirk too obviously, though inside I was cracking up. The look on their faces! They actually thought I was cozying up with some sugar daddy, probably conjuring up all sorts of ridiculous scenarios in their heads. I mean, really—me? A waitress, rolling around in luxury and being "kept" by some rich old guy? It was almost too funny.

Max and Dylan were practically squirming in their seats, while Jason sat there, staring at me with this intense, brooding look that I almost wanted to roll my eyes at. Did they really think I’d suddenly gone and picked up a "sponsor"? Honestly, this was too good to pass up.

"So, I guess beer it is?" I asked, pretending to be all business, tapping my pen against my notepad.

"No, we need something stronger," Max replied, clearly still bothered. "I’ll take whiskey... and a steak, medium rare. Might as well eat and drink my sorrows away." 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Dylan added, equally dejected, "Just a beer and fries for me."

Jason didn’t look away from me as he said, "I’ll stick with water. Someone’s got to stay sober enough to take these fools home. But I’ll take a hamburger and fries."

I raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a quick nod. "Alright, coming right up," I said as I turned to walk away. But just before I left, I couldn’t resist adding, "Oh, and Max? To answer your question—I do like mature guys."

The way they all froze, their jaws practically hitting the table, was worth every second of the teasing. I didn’t explicitly say I liked old men, but I knew their minds would run wild with it, diving headfirst into the gutter where they so often lived. Let them think what they want.

As I walked back to the counter, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. If they were going to make silly assumptions, I might as well give them something to stew over. Besides, it’s not like they’d believe the truth if I told them—telling them Mr. Harris was my godfather and basically family would probably ruin the fun.

And if they wanted to sit there, getting more and more wound up over a mystery they’d never solve, well... who was I to stop them?