The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Chapter 90: Best Day Turning Into My Punishment

Ella POV:

Can I do a crazy dance? Hell yeah, because it’s the best day ever!

No Amber. No Jason. No Max. No Dylan. Just a regular, drama-free school day like it should be. God, what I wouldn’t give to relive this day over and over again.

Amber? She wouldn’t dare show her face after the chaos her family went through. And the three stooges? I had no clue where they were, and frankly, I didn’t care. As long as they weren’t around to bother me, I was golden. Finally, I got to experience campus life the way it was meant to be—just normal kids, trying to finish our stupid studies and graduate.

No stupid queen bees. No king wannabes. Just peace.

Who knew that the day I almost skipped class would turn out to be my perfect day? And I wasn’t going to let anything sour my mood. Not even Jason. Nope, I wasn’t even thinking about why he hadn’t texted me since I gave him my number. Nope, definitely not looking forward to blocking him or anything.

...Okay, maybe I just thought about him. Ugh, damn it, Ella!

But I wasn’t letting that ruin my vibe. I’d already made it through Mr. Mathews’ class, and bless that man’s no-nonsense soul. He’s officially my favorite professor. Sure, he treats us like dirt, but at least we’re all dirt equally. No special treatment for anyone, not even the sons of CEOs or kings. He refused to acknowledge any student’s background, and honestly? It was refreshing. Heck, he could treat us all like monkeys for all I cared, as long as we were in the same category.

Class ended early, and like the go-getter I am, I used the extra time to finish my assignments. Heck, I even got to focus on my personal project—the one inspired by that LBJ company. Why not turn my schoolwork into something more significant? Slowly but surely, I’d build my own empire without anyone—especially the Kingsleys—knowing.

That’s when I saw it. Jason’s obnoxious message:

Jason: Hey, Ella. Not feeling too great, so I can’t make it to class today. Could you take some good notes for me? I’d really appreciate it.

Are you kidding me?!

I didn’t even think twice before firing back:

Me: "Fuck off. Ask someone else."

Stupid jerk. Did he think I was his personal assistant? Not today, Jason. Not on my perfect, drama-free day.

I smiled to myself, shutting off my phone and diving back into my project. This was my time—no distractions, no drama, just Ella building her empire, one step at a time. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the only person I can rely on is me.

And just like that, my perfect day came to an end. Why, you ask? Stupid job.

Now I had to drag myself to the diner and deal with my boss. What were the odds he’d say, "Oh, Ella, no need to work today. Go home, relax, and enjoy yourself"? About the same odds as me willingly eating dog shit—zero.

Still, I couldn’t complain too much. At least I had the entire day to myself, and it was peaceful. No Amber. No Jason. No unnecessary drama. Just blissful calm. A girl like me couldn’t ask for more.

But now, back to the grind. Time to deal with cranky customers, endless orders, and my boss yelling at me like I was single-handedly responsible for world hunger. Great. What a way to end the day.

At least I could keep one thing in mind—I’d had my moment of peace, and it was enough to keep me sane through the chaos of the evening ahead. Hopefully.

Dealing with the bratty customers wasn’t enough for one evening, oh no. Life decided to throw Max and Dylan at me. Wait—no Jason? Odd.

"Elly!" Max shouted my name like we were best friends. Ugh. I guess Coach didn’t take my silent prayers seriously, because these two were full of energy. Just great. Exactly what I needed.

As I walked over to take their orders, I was bombarded with:

"I missed you today. Did you miss me too?" Max asked, grinning like a puppy who thought he’d done something adorable.

And then Dylan chimed in with, "Hey, how about a date this weekend? Just you and me."

Oh, for crying out loud.

I glanced at Dylan. I knew exactly what this so-called "date" would be—a confession of feelings, love, likeness, whatever he wanted to label it. And hell no was I going to fall for that trap. Better to keep things as they were, with him liking me quietly while I pretended not to notice. Let him live in that bubble. Once he said it out loud, I’d be forced to acknowledge it, and that was a headache I wasn’t about to entertain.

So, Dylan’s "date thingy" got a hard pass. "Nope. Not happening," I said, brushing him off like lint on my sleeve.

As for Max, well... honesty was the best policy, right? No need to keep him floating in a fantasy world. "No, I didn’t miss you," I told him, matter-of-factly. "Actually, it was the best day I’ve ever had—with you not around. Thinking of skipping more classes? I’d greatly appreciate it."

Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh, but come on! Brutal honesty was sometimes the quickest way to nip their fantasies in the bud. If Mr. Harris’s little suspicions about Max liking me were true, this should douse those flames immediately.

I turned and walked away, satisfied I’d done my job for the night. No confessions. No fantasies. Just me, surviving this shift one sassy comment at a time.

The entire shift, they just wouldn’t let up. Dylan kept circling back, pestering me like a kid begging for candy.

"Come on, Ella," he whined for the tenth time. "Just a bit of your time—just a small bit. You won’t even notice it’s gone."

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. Was this guy for real? "Dylan, you’re already taking more of my time than I’m willing to give. How about you go eat your food and leave me alone?"

Then there was Max, who was somehow worse. "Even if you didn’t miss me, I missed you," he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "And that’s enough for both of us, don’t you think? My missment can totally cover you too."

"Missment? That’s not even a word, Max," I snapped, but he just shrugged like he didn’t care.

"Doesn’t matter. The point is, I missed you."

Great. Fantastic. Just what I needed. A delusional one who thought his feelings could magically erase mine—or lack thereof.

"Look, Max," I said flatly. "I don’t know what fantasy world you’re living in, but I’m not in it. Go enjoy your food. Or better yet, take it to go."

But nope. They didn’t get the hint. Every five minutes, one of them called me over, either to ask for something ridiculous or just to make conversation. By the end of the night, I was ready to scream.

As I cleared their table for the last time, I muttered under my breath, "If this is my punishment for one peaceful day, I swear I’ll never want to do a crazy dance again."

Even after they were done with their meals, the two idiots refused to leave. They just lounged around like they owned the place, chatting, laughing, and occasionally throwing me smirks that made me want to spill water all over them—accidentally, of course.

My boss, ever the spineless diplomat, came over and whispered, "Ella, if they’re not ordering anything else, you should ask them to leave. But... be gentle, okay? They’re the sons of important people, and we don’t want any trouble."

Gentle? Oh, sure. I’ll be as gentle as a jackhammer.

I walked up to their table, arms crossed, giving them my best deadpan glare. "Hey, are you guys done? If you’re not ordering anything else, the table’s needed for actual customers."

Dylan, always the smarmy one, leaned back in his chair with a grin. "We’re not done. We’ll take some drinks—on second thought, how about a round of coffees? Keep them coming."

Max chimed in, flashing that insufferable smirk. "Yeah, Ella. Don’t worry, we’re not in a rush. The night’s still young, right?"

I stared at them, debating whether it was worth risking my job to tell them off properly. Instead, I gritted my teeth and forced the fakest smile I could muster. "Fine. Coffee it is. But don’t get too comfortable."

They laughed like I was joking, and I stormed off to prepare their drinks. Of course, they didn’t have to worry about running out of money. They could sit here all night, sipping overpriced coffee and making my life hell, and it wouldn’t even make a dent in their trust funds.

The worst part? My boss was watching from the counter, nodding approvingly like I’d just handled a royal delegation. freēwebnovel.com

Just one more hour, I told myself. One more hour, and they’ll be someone else’s problem.