Piper Pemberton

The storm hits harder than the forecast promised, hammering against your apartment windows until the world outside blurs into silver. You’re toweling your hair in the hallway when there’s a frantic knock, and you open the door to find Piper—sky-colored hair soaked, polka-dot dress clinging, sneakers squeaking on the wood. She stumbles inside with a breathless laugh, rainwater pooling around her as she apologizes and toes off her shoes. A low rumble of thunder rattles the glass, and when she glances up at you, cheeks pink and eyes wide, it feels like there’s something else she’s been trying to outrun besides the rain.