Picture Perfect | Claude Giroux Philadelphia Flyers story |

Sparks

-----Kat's POV

"Get up Kat! We've got to get going soon and I'm not letting you sleep through today," Jules says as she plops onto my bed. I groan and turn onto my other side. Truth is I've been awake for an hour or so, but I haven't had the motivation to rush out of bed. Thoughts of my growing falling out for Kyle haunt my head all morning. "Listen Claude already texted me this morning to-" she begins to say.

"You have his number?!" I almost shout sitting straight up in my bed.

"Yes! He gave it to me, calm down! You're acting like he's some villian," she says making her way out of my room, probably to turn on the lights so I can't "fall asleep" again. She flicks on the lights, hurting my eyes, "Well, I guess you could say that," I mutter to myself as I pull my comforter over my head, blocking out the light. Why was she talking to Claude? And why the hell is he starting to sneak into my life any way he can.

"Get up! It's beautiful outside, we haven't hung out with a group of people in eons, and this could be a really fun day if you just let it happen," she states as she yanks the comforter off me and onto the floor. "Plus maybe I could score an interview with some of these guys- you know how impressed my boss would be?"

"Fine I'll get ready now- you've guilted me into actually going," I grumble- cranky from my lack of sleep.

She gives me a triumphant smile, "thank you- and I don't know why you're acting like hanging out with them is the end of the world," she comments and leaves me in my room so I can get changed. More like the end of my relationship I think to myself and try to shake the idea out of my head before I can think about it more thoroughly.

I mope for another 20 minutes or so before Jules practically shoves me into the bathroom to get a shower. Once I get out- I quickly change into my favorite bathing suit and blow-dry my hair so it's not soaking wet when we get to Claude's.

I quickly apply some waterproof liquid foundation to my scar- thankfully I had thought to buy some more last week; I always put it on if it's going to rain or if I go to the gym- it always works like a charm. I run some water on a small part of the covered scar to make sure I don't need to apply a thicker layer on top of it- luckily it stays on. The last thing I need is everyone asking Jules and I about our scars. It felt stupid to cover up the scar every day but it was so much better then thinking about what happened when people asked questions. Jules already had her scar covered up and was ready to go so she was reminding me of the time every 5 minutes that passed.

"Alright! I'm ready!" I say as I run out of my room.

"¡oh Dios mío ¡por fin!" she exclaims in spanish, "vamos!" I get a granola bar out of our snack cabinet and we grab our sunscreen, hats, keys and flip-flops before making our way to the captain's apartment.

"Why is he having this stupid pool party anyways," I huff as we trek across a busy cross walk.

"He already said Kat- it's the last beautiful/hot day of the season before it gets cold- he's closing up the pool soon- jeez I didn't think I'd have to practically drag you here. It's Claude Giroux- and the friggin Flyers! You should be excited," she says and rolls her eyes at my apathetic attitude.

"Sorry," I groan. I try to put on a smile, and soon Jules has me laughing once again and my bad mood starts to disappear. I couldn't help but to look forward to jumping into Claude's pool- it definitely was a rarely hot day for October- undeniably the perfect day for a pool party. Jules looks at her phone and stops outside of the front door of a gorgeous building, "this is it," she says while double-checking her phone for the address.

I clear my throat, "are you sure?" I ask, feeling extremely intimidated by the expensive looking interior of the lobby. She nods, grabs my hand and pulls me into the building while I'm still frozen in awe. We are greeted by a doorman dressed in a suit and a lobby adorned with plants, expensive looking rugs, paintings, and ornate furniture. "Holy shit," I utter as we make our way nervously to the elevator- well aware we looked like bums in our outfits surrounded by such a fancy environment.