The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Chapter 132: Texting

Jason POV: ƒrēewebnovel.com

I stared at my phone after hitting send on the message: "Are you done?" Honestly, I wasn’t expecting a reply. Ella wasn’t exactly the queen of immediate responses. So, when those three little dots appeared on my screen, indicating she was typing, I had to blink a few times.

Wait. Was this real? Someone pinch me. It’s not April Fool’s Day, right?

Nope. Definitely real.

Her reply came through: "Just finished locking up."

I grinned like an idiot. She actually responded.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I wasn’t delusional enough to think this meant anything earth-shattering. But it felt like progress. Or maybe I was just looking for an excuse to see her again. Either way, my fingers hovered over my phone screen for a second, trying to play it cool.

"Want me to walk you home?" I typed, hit send, and waited, my heart thumping way harder than it should’ve.

When the reply came in, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear but exactly what I expected from Ella:

"No need. I’m good on my own."

Of course, she’d say that. Ella didn’t like letting anyone in, not even for something as simple as walking her home.

But I wasn’t going to give up that easily.

"Good on your own? That sounds lonely. What if I keep you company? Virtually?" I typed back, smirking at my own cleverness.

Her response came quicker than I thought: "Virtually? Jason, are you serious?"

"Absolutely," I shot back. "Think of me as your personal narrator for the night. You know, like, ’Ella bravely walks the treacherous streets, headphones in, hoping the shadows don’t come alive.’"

I imagined her rolling her eyes at her screen, but I got a reply anyway: "Very funny. It’s not that dramatic. Just a quiet walk home."

"Sure, but isn’t that how every horror movie starts? Quiet streets, a lone girl walking home... until the plot twist."

"You’re the plot twist, Jason," she sent back, and I grinned at the message.

"That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I’m honored."

"It wasn’t a compliment." ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

"Too late. I’m taking it as one. So, where are you now?"

She hesitated, but finally sent: "Just passed the diner parking lot. Jason, you’re not seriously going to text me all the way home, are you?"

"Oh, I absolutely am. You might refuse my physical presence, but you can’t escape my texts. So, what’s next? Are there streetlights? Potholes? A particularly aggressive squirrel?"

"You’re ridiculous," she replied. "And for your information, the streetlights are flickering. Very ominous."

"See? I knew it! This is basically the start of a thriller. Do you need me to send backup? Or, you know, come to the rescue myself?"

"Jason, I swear, if you show up, I’ll block your number."

"You wouldn’t," I replied confidently. "Who else would provide such stellar commentary on your nightly adventures?"

Her response came slower this time, but when it did, it made me laugh: "Fine. Narrate away, oh wise storyteller. But don’t expect a tip."

"Deal," I sent back. "Alright, picture this: Ella, the fearless warrior, marches onward. Her destination? The mysterious realm of ’home.’ Along the way, she battles the elements, dodges imaginary monsters, and rolls her eyes so hard, she almost trips."

"Almost? I’m graceful, thank you very much."

"Sure you are. But don’t forget, if you’re rolling your eyes at me too much, you might miss that one rogue crack in the pavement."

"Keep it up, and I might just stop replying," she warned.

"But you won’t," I typed. "Because deep down, you’re secretly enjoying this."

There was a long pause before she replied, and I imagined her trying not to smile.

"Maybe. Just a little."

That small admission made my chest feel way too light for its own good.

"Knew it. So, how much longer until you reach this magical place called home?"

"Five minutes. Tops."

"Good. That gives me enough time to tell you that you’re doing great, by the way. With everything."

Her reply was short but carried more weight than she probably intended: "Thanks."

"Anytime," I sent back. "Now hurry up and get home safe, warrior. The kingdom needs you rested and ready."

Her final reply before she ended the conversation?

"Goodnight, Jason."

And just like that, I was grinning like an idiot at my phone again.

I stared at her message: "Goodnight, Jason."

Oh no, not so fast.

"Goodnight? Nice try, but we both know you’re not sleeping yet," I sent back, smirking as I imagined her rolling her eyes at her phone. "Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily."

The dots appeared again, and I waited, half-expecting her to ignore me. But then: "Jason, it’s late. Don’t you have a game to rest for or something?"

"And don’t you have sleep to not get?" I replied quickly. "If we’re being honest, I’ll probably just lay in bed staring at the ceiling thinking about the game. So technically, this is more productive."

"I’m doing you a favor then?" she shot back, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

"Exactly. This is all for my mental health. You’re practically a hero."

"Wow, you really don’t quit, do you?"

"Not when it comes to you," I typed before I could stop myself. It felt bold, but hey, sometimes you’ve got to shoot your shot, right?

The typing dots appeared again, disappeared, and then reappeared. My heart thudded a little harder than I cared to admit.

"Jason..." was all she sent.

Not wanting to scare her off, I switched gears slightly: "Okay, okay, I’ll behave. But, uh, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask."

"What?" she replied, probably suspicious of what was coming next.

"Are you coming to the match?" I sent, and then quickly added, "Don’t make me beg. Max already embarrassed us enough earlier."

It took a moment before her reply came through: "I don’t know, Jason. It depends."

"Depends on what?"

"The weather. My mood. How lazy I feel. You know, the usual factors."

I sighed dramatically, even though she couldn’t hear it. "Ella, this is our last game. Ever. Don’t you think it’d be worth the trip?"

"I’ll think about it," she sent back, which wasn’t the flat-out no I was expecting.

"That’s progress," I typed. "Just so you know, if you come, I’ll score a goal for you. Or, you know, try really hard not to screw up."

"You better win either way," she replied, and I could almost hear the teasing edge in her tone.

"We will. But it’d be better if you were there," I sent, feeling bolder than I should.

She didn’t reply immediately, and I wondered if I’d pushed too far. Then, finally: "Goodnight, Jason."

This time, I let her have it.

"Goodnight, Ella. Sweet dreams, warrior."

I stared at my phone for a few moments after that, grinning like a fool. She didn’t promise to come, but she didn’t say no either. That was something. For tonight, I’d take it.

And hey, that was the longest text session I’d ever had with Ella. Not that I was counting or anything (okay, maybe I was). She didn’t outright tell me to stop texting, didn’t leave me on read, and didn’t fire off any sarcastic "Jason, go away" remarks. That had to mean something, right?

I tossed my phone onto the bed, running a hand through my hair with a grin I couldn’t wipe off even if I tried. I mean, she actually entertained my nonsense. That had to be some kind of miracle.

But still...

I picked up my phone again, staring at the last message she sent. "Goodnight, Jason."

Yeah, it was a goodnight. But it also felt like... progress.

Part of me wanted to text her again, just something random to keep the conversation going, but I also didn’t want to push my luck. She seemed tired, and for once, I actually listened to that little voice in my head telling me to back off.

But man, I really hoped this wouldn’t be the last time.

Ella wasn’t the type to open up easily. She had walls—tall, unscalable, keep-out kind of walls. But for a few minutes tonight, it felt like maybe, just maybe, she let me peek over the top.

Now all I had to do was not screw it up. Easier said than done when it came to her.

I flopped back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Nationals were coming up, and yeah, that was supposed to be my focus. But honestly? The thought of Ella maybe showing up at the game was more exciting than any trophy.

Who knew a text conversation could leave me feeling this... hopeful?

With a final glance at my phone, I muttered to myself, "Don’t screw this up, Jason. Don’t screw this up."

And maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to look up.

Fuck, I am behaving like a teenager.

I threw my arm over my face, trying to smother the ridiculous grin that wouldn’t leave. It was like my brain and body were teaming up to sabotage me. The stupid flutter in my chest every time her name popped up on my phone? Yeah, real smooth, Jason. Totally not obvious at all.

Was this what high school kids felt like when their crush looked at them? Because honestly, it was embarrassing. I’m supposed to be this laid-back guy, the one who doesn’t get fazed by anything, and yet here I am, overanalyzing every text like it’s some secret code to decipher.

"Goodnight, Jason."

I groaned, turning over and staring at my phone screen again. It wasn’t even anything dramatic or groundbreaking. Just a simple goodnight. But it was from her. And somehow, that made it a big deal.

What the hell was wrong with me? I had a major game to prepare for. The Nationals. The biggest event of my life right now. Yet, my head wasn’t filled with strategies or drills. Nope, it was all Ella.

Like, seriously. Who was this guy, and what had he done to the Jason who could goof around without a care?

I tossed my phone onto the nightstand, but of course, it wasn’t even five seconds before I grabbed it again. Just to check. Maybe she’d sent another text. Maybe she was still awake.

Nothing.

I groaned again. I am pathetic.

And yeah, I could feel the judgment from imaginary me in the past, the version who would’ve rolled his eyes at this whole situation. But damn, past me didn’t know Ella.

Teenager vibes or not, I thought, staring at the ceiling, it’s kind of worth it.

Still, I should probably reel it in before I text her something dumb, like "Are you thinking about me too?"

God help me.