The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Ella's POV:

After a whole week of almost constant anxiety, waiting for Jason to retaliate, nothing happened. But I started noticing something weird—extremely weird. His two best friends had suddenly turned into charmers. Whenever I served them at their table, Dylan, I think his name was, would be overly polite when answering my questions. He even used words like "please." Then there was Max—oh, Max—throwing suggestive glances at me as if he thought I'd swoon at the sight of him.

And Jason Knight, the king of the school, just sat there, stone-faced, as if I didn't even exist. It was bizarre, this group of friends. Were they losing their minds or what?

Being me, I didn't pay them much attention. But apparently, that only seemed to frustrate them more. If they thought I'd giggle and act all flustered because of their pitiful attempts at charm, they had the wrong girl. I definitely didn't want their attention. In fact, I despised it. They were making me break my second rule—stay invisible. Stupid jocks.

Their ridiculous behavior didn't go unnoticed by the other students either. The girls, especially. I could feel their petty jealousy burning holes through me. As if I wanted those idiots. I just wanted to blend into the background and go back to being the unremarkable waitress. But no, these guys just wouldn't leave me alone.

The last two days had been nerve-wracking, enough to make me want to scream. First, Dylan had waited for me at the door after my shift, opening it for me like a gentleman, then offering to walk me home. As if I'd let him. Stupid, stupid.

Then came Max, waiting for me the next day. He had the audacity to ask me to go to the movies with him, followed by an invite to his place, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as if I couldn't figure out what he was hinting at. What did he take me for? A prostitute? Idiot!

Today, I braced myself for yet another round of their futile attempts to win me over. They came in earlier than usual, which made me think their practice must have ended early. Thanks, coach. Just what I needed. They weren't even ordering anything—just sitting there, taking up space. My boss, ever the opportunist, told me to ask them to leave if they weren't going to order. As if he didn't know them well enough to realize they could make life difficult. But I think he just enjoyed seeing me busy. He probably thought running around gave me some extra purpose. Typical.

So, I headed over to their table and asked, "Are you going to order anything?"

"I came to see you, lovely," Max said with a wink.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes under my cap. Thankfully, it was pulled down far enough that they couldn't see my expression.

"If you're not ordering, my boss said you need to leave," I told them bluntly.

Dylan, who had been idly staring at the flower arrangement on the table, finally raised his eyes and said, "I'll get a bottle of beer, please."

Oh, please. It felt weird for him to be so polite, especially considering how he used to be before Jason's fiasco. Now, suddenly, he's Mr. Manners?

And Jason—the grumpy one, as I always called him in my head—said, "I'm still contemplating."

Contemplating? He'd been "thinking" for half an hour now! As I went to get Dylan's beer, Max ordered two more.

Great. Just great. This was going to be a long shift.

Serving them their drinks, I didn't waste a second before turning on my heel and heading back to the counter. Of course, Max, in all his idiotic glory, had to shout after me, "You wound my heart!"

Ugh, idiot.

I could already tell this shift was going to be worse than I thought. All the girls in the diner were shooting daggers at me with their eyes, probably wishing they were in my place. For fuck's sake, they could take Max and stuff him in their designer handbags for all I cared.

The sharpest glare, of course, came from Amber Prescott. Apparently, cheerleading practice had ended early, and for once, she wasn't off shopping or doing whatever it is spoiled brats do. Of course, she had to make her grand entrance, seating herself not far from where Jason and his crew were lounging, like they owned the place.

Then, she pulled out something that made my blood boil—a bell. A literal, tiny, servant bell. She rang it, loud and clear, her lips curling into that smug smile of hers. Was she for real? Who even carries a damn bell in this day and age? 

I sat at the counter, pretending nothing was happening, hoping she'd get bored or, better yet, drop dead. But of course, the bitch wouldn't let it go. Her high-pitched voice pierced through the buzz of the crowd like nails on a chalkboard.

"Waitress!" she called, ringing that stupid bell. "Waitress!" *Ring, ring*.

I clenched my jaw, feeling the familiar knot of annoyance tighten in my chest. If I didn't go over there, my boss would come out, and the last thing I needed was another lecture about "customer service."

With a forced, neutral expression, I stood up and made my way toward her, taking my sweet time. Inside, I was ready to murder her on sight. 

Amber looked up at me with those ice-blue eyes, a smile that was anything but friendly curling on her lips. She rang the bell once more, for good measure, just as I reached her table.

"Yes?" I asked, barely containing my disdain. "What can I do for you?"

Her fake, sugary tone dripped like venom. "Oh, you know, just a little service would be lovely. Or is that too much to ask? I mean, I didn't come to this diner for nothing." She rang the bell again.

I stared at the bell for a second, imagining how satisfying it would be to shove it down her throat, but I kept my cool.

"What would you like to order, Amber?" I asked, keeping my voice as steady as possible.

"Oh, I'm not sure," she replied, drawing out each word like she had all the time in the world. "Maybe a cappuccino. No, wait. A latte. Actually… why don't you bring me both, and I'll decide later."

She smiled up at me, knowing full well what she was doing. It wasn't about the drinks. It was about showing off, making sure everyone in the diner knew she could treat me like her personal servant.

"Right," I said, nodding, "both drinks it is. Anything else? Perhaps a side of dignity?"

She blinked at me, not catching the sarcasm, and I turned on my heel before she could say anything more. 

I could feel her eyes on me as I walked back to the counter, the whole diner buzzing with silent judgment. The queen bee had stung, and everyone was watching to see if I'd flinch. 

Not today, Amber. Not today.