ELENA’S POV: The rain in Ridgewood was aggressive and not a cute little drizzle. No, this was the kind that slapped you in the face, soaked through your clothes in seconds, and made you question every decision that led you outside including my entire life. I dragged my hoodie tighter over my head, which did absolutely nothing except make me look like a wet, miserable ghost. My jeans were already clinging to my legs and my sneakers squelched with every step like they were personally offended. “Fantastic,” I muttered, kicking through a puddle I didn’t even try to avoid this time. “Love this for me.” My bag slipped off my shoulder, and I caught it just before it hit the ground. Too late. The damage was already done. Water had definitely gotten inside. My notes. Hours of sitting in that cramped, coffee-stained media office, trying to prove I actually deserved to be there were all gone. I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, that tracks.” My phone buzzed in my hand, and I
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