Free Web NovelChapter 88: Your Number (II)
Ella POV:
Ugh. Of all the things I had to deal with today, Jason was the last person I wanted to entertain. I wasn’t planning on giving him my phone number—why would I? But the guy was relentless. He just stood there at the counter, all charming smirks and cocky persistence, acting like he owned the place.
I tried ignoring him. I tried snapping at him. I even tried brushing him off with sarcastic jabs, but he didn’t budge. Of course, he didn’t. Why would Jason King, heir to the most obnoxious family in the city, ever take "no" for an answer? fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
The worst part? I was too damn tired to argue with him. Between the long shift plus the police encounter, dealing with nosy customers, and my boss’s constant nagging, my patience had already run thin. Add Jason’s stubbornness to the mix, and I was officially done.
"Jason," I finally said, pinching the bridge of my nose, "you’re not leaving, are you?"
"Nope," he replied cheerfully, leaning against the counter like he had all the time in the world.
I sighed. I didn’t have the energy to keep fighting him, and honestly, if giving him my number would get him to leave me alone, then so be it. "Fine," I muttered, grabbing a napkin and scribbling my number on it. "Here. Take it. Now, please go home."
His face lit up like he’d just won the lottery, which only irritated me more. "Thanks, Ella," he said, sliding the napkin into his pocket with an infuriating grin.
"Don’t thank me," I snapped. "Just keep your promise and don’t give it to anyone else. Ever."
"Cross my heart," he said, holding up his hand like he was swearing an oath.
I wasn’t convinced. "You better mean that," I muttered.
He didn’t even respond. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number right there in front of me. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I glared at him.
"Happy now?" I asked, pulling out my phone to silence the call.
"Very," he said, his grin somehow widening.
I rolled my eyes. "Great. Now leave."
"Alright, alright. I’m going," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
I watched as he finally walked out the door, my annoyance still simmering. Honestly, I hadn’t even wanted to give him my number, but I’d been too exhausted to keep arguing.
I shook my head and tucked my phone back into my pocket. "Boys," I muttered under my breath. "They’re all the same."
Finally, some peace.
With Jason out of the diner, I could finally take a breath. The relentless buzz of his presence had been grating on my nerves, and now that he was gone, the silence felt like a gift. Well, silence was relative—the clinking of cups and the faint hum of the diner’s playlist filled the air, but it was a far cry from Jason’s endless pestering.
I leaned against the counter, letting my head fall back for a moment. My shift wasn’t over yet, but the lull before the late dinner rush was my only reprieve. I let my eyes drift to the clock hanging above the kitchen door. Two more hours. Just two more, and I could head home, collapse into bed, and forget this whole ridiculous day ever happened.
Honestly, Jason was like a storm that blew through every corner of my life, leaving chaos in his wake. First, the absurd confession. Then the drama at the police station. Now, the battle over my phone number. Did he not realize I wasn’t interested? Or was he just too stubborn to care?
I let out a slow breath, trying to shove him out of my mind. He wasn’t worth the energy. None of them were—Jason, Max, Dylan. Three grim brothers, all equally annoying in their own special ways.
The sound of the door jingling pulled me out of my thoughts. A group of regulars walked in, laughing and chatting as they found a booth. I straightened up, putting on my best customer-service smile as I grabbed the menus.
Back to work. At least with customers, I knew what to expect.
As I handed out menus and took their orders, I felt the lingering tension in my shoulders start to ease. Work wasn’t exactly a dream, but it was predictable. Grounding, even. And after a day like this, I needed all the stability I could get.
I found myself glancing at the door every now and then, half-expecting Jason to come back for round two. But he didn’t. Finally, some peace.
I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I might’ve just invited more trouble into my already chaotic life. One thing was for sure—Jason King wasn’t going to give up anytime soon. And somehow, that thought annoyed and intrigued me in equal measure.
As my shift finally ended, I couldn’t have been happier. The diner was bustling earlier, but by the end of the night, it felt like time itself had slowed to a crawl. I grabbed my things and practically bolted out of there.
I expected my phone to be buzzing with a flood of messages from Jason—because that’s what Jason does, right? The guy doesn’t know the meaning of restraint. I mean, this is the same Jason who pestered me relentlessly at the diner until I gave him my number. Yet, as I unlocked my phone and glanced at the screen... nothing.
No texts. No missed calls. Just silence.
"Hmm," I muttered, plugging in my earbuds as I stepped onto the sidewalk. Maybe I’d judged him too harshly. I was expecting a hundred cheesy, over-the-top messages. Something like "Goodnight, my muse", or "Just thinking about your blue eyes"—ugh, so Jason. But nope. The guy was radio silent.
As I walked home, the cool night air brushing against my skin, I found myself wondering if he was okay. That thought lasted all of two seconds before I rolled my eyes at myself. Why should I care? He’s probably just overthinking his next move. It wasn’t like Jason to hold back; maybe he was trying to play it cool for once.
When I got home, I went through my usual nightly routine. Shower, teeth brushed, pajamas on. Sleep was calling my name, and I wasn’t planning to keep it waiting.
But, of course, I checked my phone one last time.
Still nothing.
No messages. No missed calls. No desperate attempts to grab my attention. Absolutely nothing.
"Huh." I stared at the blank screen for a moment, unsure how to feel. Part of me was relieved—finally, some peace and quiet. The other part of me, the part I didn’t want to acknowledge, felt... disappointed?
Nope. Not going there.
I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and climbed into bed. Sleep was beckoning me, and I wasn’t about to waste another second thinking about Jason King.
Tomorrow was a new day, and I had far more important things to focus on than some rich boy with a crush.
Right?
Jason POV:
She gave me her fucking number.
Victory wasn’t even the word. My body still ached from practice, and my pride had taken a beating thanks to that relentless coach, but none of it mattered now. I had Ella’s number.
Of course, now came the hard part: not messing it up. I had to play this just right. I couldn’t annoy her with too many calls or texts—not yet, at least. If she blocked me, it’d be game over. But as long as I had her number, I had a way in. And if something went wrong? There were always ways to get another line or work around it.
I chuckled to myself as I started my car, the engine humming softly beneath me. Max and Dylan had already gone home, probably still grumbling about practice. I didn’t care; I’d made progress tonight, and they hadn’t.
I headed straight home, anticipation bubbling in my chest despite the exhaustion weighing down my limbs. The first thing I did when I got back was take a long, hot shower. The steam eased some of the tension in my aching muscles, but my mind was still racing.
Ella.
Her number.
I sat on the edge of my bed, towel slung over my shoulders, staring at my phone like it held the secrets of the universe. Should I text her? Was her shift over? Had she made it home safe? Maybe I should just say goodnight—but what kind of goodnight? Should I add something cute, something memorable?
Goodnight, Blue.
It sounded perfect in my head. A nod to those piercing blue eyes of hers that haunted my thoughts far too often. But what if she didn’t like it? What if she thought it was cheesy?
Maybe just keep it simple. Goodnight, Ella. Or... Goodnight, Elly. Was "El" too much? Too soon? Arrgh!
I ran a hand through my damp hair, frustrated with myself. I wasn’t the type to overthink things like this. I’d had plenty of girls’ numbers before. This wasn’t new territory for me. But Ella...she was different. Everything about her threw me off balance.
One minute, I was contemplating the perfect message. The next, my head hit the pillow, and everything went dark. Exhaustion finally won.
As I drifted off, one thought lingered in my mind: Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’d figure out what to say. Tomorrow, I’d make her see I wasn’t just another guy chasing her for fun.
For now, though, sleep.
