Ella's POV:
Jason.
The nerve of this idiot.
Now, I had to decide: open the door and unleash a murderous tirade on him or just ignore it and go back to bed.
The rage was bubbling up inside me. Part of me wanted to just pretend I wasn't home and slink back into my room. But another part of me—the smarter part of me—knew that if I opened that door, there would be murder.
And I wasn't about to be the dead body in this scenario.
I took a deep breath and reached for the door handle. But before I could turn it, I stopped myself. This wasn't the mood for playing nice, for explaining that I had cramps, that I was in no shape to deal with any drama or conversation. No. I wasn't going to be the polite, kind-hearted Ella who let people walk all over her.
Instead, I glared at the door and muttered, "You better turn around and walk away, Jason, or so help me god..."
