Jason's POV:
I waited. And waited. Sitting at home like an idiot, expecting the hoodie girl to show up. I had told her 'my place at seven', and she had the audacity to blow me off. Who did she think she was? No texts, no call, nothing. Not that I had her number anyway, but still—most girls would've found a way to let me know they couldn't make it. Then again, this wasn't like most girls. She was something else entirely, and I couldn't decide if it pissed me off more or made me even more intrigued.
I spent half the night staring at my phone, waiting for some snarky message or a lame excuse, but nope. Silent. She really didn't give a shit, did she? That annoyed me more than I'd like to admit.
I paced around my living room, checking the clock every five minutes like an idiot. Seven o'clock turned into eight, and then eight-thirty. Still no sign of her. The hoodie girl—Ella—whatever her name was, had completely blown me off.
