Jayda first met Tris on a Tuesday afternoon three years ago.
It was raining too.
Not heavily.
Just enough to leave the sidewalks of Hudson damp and reflective beneath gray skies.
Jayda still remembered standing awkwardly inside a crowded café near West Avenue while balancing three paper cups of coffee and a folder against her chest at the same time.
Then somebody suddenly bumped into her shoulder.
The coffees slipped instantly.
“s**t—”
Warm liquid splashed across the floor before the cups completely fell from her hands.
Jayda gasped in horror.
“Oh my God.”
Several people immediately looked toward her direction while she crouched down in embarrassment trying to save the scattered folders near the café entrance.
Then another pair of hands helped gather the papers.
Calm.
Quick.
