The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Chapter 127: Finals

Ella’s POV

The finals gods... Can I just say I hate exam season?

Seriously, whoever thought cramming your entire academic worth into a few grueling hours of brain torture needs a reality check. It’s like they sat in a room and asked, "How can we make students’ lives absolutely miserable?" and someone shouted, "EXAMS!"

And don’t even get me started on how there’s no time for anything else. No social life, no relaxing, no breathing—just studying until your brain feels like it’s melting out of your ears.

Me? I’m a total night owl. My brain doesn’t even start functioning properly until after the sun sets. So yeah, I’ve been pulling all-nighters, living off coffee and sheer willpower. Trans-nighting has basically become my entire personality at this point.

But here’s the kicker. You’d think that attending every lecture like a good student would give you some kind of advantage, right? Like, "Oh, I was in class. I’m prepared for this." Nope. Not even close.

Almost 60% of the questions on the exam weren’t even touched on in class. Not a single mention. Nada. So much for taking notes and paying attention. Apparently, the real test isn’t what you learned—it’s how well you can use your common sense and pray for a miracle.

Honestly, I should’ve seen it coming. Finals always do this. But still, it’s infuriating. If I survive this, I’m treating myself to something ridiculously indulgent. Like cake. Or sleep. Or both.

Yeah, definitely both.

The frustration was real. Every single exam felt like a personal attack. It wasn’t just that the questions were tough—they were deliberately crafted to ruin your will to live.

Who even makes these exams? Sadists? People who enjoy watching students suffer? Honestly, it felt like they stayed up late thinking, How can we make this unnecessarily hard?

I’d just come out of my most recent test, my head pounding and my eyes stinging from lack of sleep. Even the coffee I downed that morning couldn’t keep me sharp enough to decipher the nonsense on the paper. There were entire sections I was sure the professor pulled from an alternate universe.

I was tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushing tired. My body begged me to crawl into bed and stay there for the rest of eternity. But of course, that wasn’t an option.

Why? Because I had a shift at the diner.

My shoulders sagged at the thought. After back-to-back finals, all I wanted was to collapse on my lumpy couch with zero responsibilities. But no, I had bills to pay and a boss who couldn’t care less about my finals stress.

The diner was its usual fluorescent-lit, grease-scented nightmare. By the time I walked in, the evening crowd was already trickling in, chatting loudly and ordering everything under the sun.

"Ella! You’re late!" my boss barked the second I stepped through the door. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

I glanced at the clock. It was 5:02. Two minutes late. Barely. But of course, he’d noticed.

"Sorry," I mumbled, tying my apron around my waist and rushing to grab the notepad and pen from the counter.

"Don’t let it happen again," he snapped before turning away to yell at the kitchen staff.

Great. Just what I needed.

The next few hours passed in a blur of taking orders, refilling coffee, and forcing a smile for customers who seemed determined to make my life harder.

By the time my shift ended, I was dragging my feet so hard I was surprised my shoes didn’t leave skid marks on the floor. My brain felt fried, my back ached, and my eyes burned from exhaustion.

I knew I had to get home and study, but the thought alone made me want to cry. Another all-nighter sounded like torture, but what choice did I have? The finals gods weren’t exactly merciful, and I couldn’t afford to bomb another test.

So, I trudged home, my bag heavy with textbooks and my mind already spiraling into panic about how unprepared I was.

"Just a few more days," I whispered to myself, trying to muster some kind of hope. "Just a few more days, and this nightmare will be over."

But even as I said it, I wasn’t sure if I believed it.

Jason’s POV

The finals season was doing a number on everyone, but for me, it was like a double punch to the gut. First, because Ella seemed to have disappeared into the ether. I barely got a glimpse of her—just when she entered the exam room, and by the time I was done wrestling with the stupid paper, she was gone. Handed it in and vanished, like a ghost.

It’s frustrating. Not that I’m stalking her or anything, but come on, is it too much to hope for even a few minutes to talk to her?

Second, because my life wasn’t exactly a picnic either. And yeah, I may be lazy when it comes to class, and I’m not exactly the poster child for paying attention during lectures, but exams? That’s a different story. I don’t mess around when it comes to those.I knew better than to mess around when it came to tests. I couldn’t afford to.

But even if I wanted to check on Ella, there was no time. The moment I was done with an exam, I was heading straight to practice. Nationals were right around the corner, and Coach had this brilliant idea that we needed to "graduate in style" by bringing home the championship trophy. So yeah, more practice than usual. That means longer hours, tougher drills, and more time on the court than off.

And after those grueling training sessions, I was completely spent. Muscles aching, mind fried—it was all I could do to drag myself home and collapse. Visiting the diner wasn’t even on the table.

Not that it would have mattered much. Finals had messed up everyone’s schedules, including Ella’s. She’d changed her shift to clock out earlier, so even if I managed to crawl over to the diner after practice, she’d either be gone or about to leave.

It’s like the universe is determined to keep us apart.

The frustration was real.

After training, I usually just crash. The second I get home, I barely make it to the shower before passing out on my bed. I set my alarm for 4 a.m. because, yeah, I’m a morning person. It’s the only time I can study without distractions—the quiet before the chaos. Then it’s rinse and repeat: wake up, study, head to the exam hall, and hope to survive whatever nightmare questions they throw at us.

And don’t get me started on the exams themselves. Whoever’s in charge of writing these papers? They’re sadistic geniuses.

Like, how is it even possible to make something this hard? You’d spend half an hour on a long, detailed question only to find out it’s worth five marks. Five! Then there’s some tiny, cryptic question worth twenty marks that makes no sense. Google probably didn’t even know what the question meant, let alone me. and that’s saying something.

It was chaos. Pure, unfiltered chaos.

And yet, through all the mess, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Ella.

I hated that I couldn’t see her, hated that the finals grind and practice schedule were keeping us apart. The idea of her slipping away, disappearing the way she’d come into my life, gnawed at me.

Even in the middle of all this chaos, I can’t get Ella out of my head. She’s like this constant hum in the back of my mind, impossible to ignore. And it’s driving me insane because I feel like I’m barely holding on, and she’s just... slipping further away.

It’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ve caught myself scanning the halls, hoping to bump into her between exams, or spotting her by sheer luck at the diner. But no dice. Ella’s practically made herself invisible, and it’s killing me.

What’s worse is that I don’t even know if she’s okay. Finals are brutal for everyone, but Ella? She’s got this fierce determination that makes me think she’s probably pushing herself harder than anyone else. I don’t know if she’s eating properly or sleeping enough. The thought of her wearing herself out makes me want to do something—anything—but I don’t even know where to start.

And then there’s this nagging question in my head: will she stick around after all this? Finals end, we graduate, life moves on. But Ella? She’s like a shadow, always disappearing when you think you’ve caught her. What if she just... leaves?

The thought of not seeing her again, of her just vanishing like she appeared, hits me harder than I’d like to admit. It’s stupid. I don’t even know why I care this much, but I do. She’s gotten under my skin, and there’s no getting her out now.

After exams, Coach keeps us at practice longer than ever. I get it—nationals are important. The whole school’s counting on us to win, and I want that trophy as much as anyone else. But it’s hard to focus when my mind keeps drifting back to Ella.

Does she even think about me?

Probably not.

I don’t blame her. She’s got her own stuff to deal with, and I’m just... me.