Picture Perfect | Claude Giroux Philadelphia Flyers story |

Pumpkin Spice

-----Kat's POV

The alarm on my phone and the alarm clock in the apartment go off simultaneously, waking me up effectively. Why did it have to be 8am already? As much as I hate to get out of this bed that feels like it's worth more than my camera and lenses added up, I can't miss the bus taking us to the airport and I'm in major need of some coffee.

I throw up my hair in a ponytail, slip on some light blue jeans and tank top and my Flyers half zip and matching baseball cap- wasn't sure if this was the best thing to wear in north Jersey after the Flyers beat the Devils but I'll take my chances. Walking out of the hotel, the cold air greets my face- it really was getting cold fast- good thing I brought my gloves with me. I look up on my phone where the closest coffee place is from the hotel and thankfully, it's only a quick 4 minutes on foot. As I walk to the Starbucks with my headphones in listening to music, I can't help but to think about last night. I can't believe how big of an idiot I am believing Claude was actually a good guy. Just put him out of your mind and get over it, I think to myself.

As I push through the front entrance of the busy Starbucks, I'm welcomed by the freshly brewed aroma of coffee and warm atmosphere. I peel off my gloves swiftly and check my email as I get in the long line. 1 unread email from the organization informing me of the itinerary for the next couple of days; bus at 11:00am, then airport by 12pm and plane leaves around 2:30pm for Vancouver. My stomach turns in my abdomen- I've always felt uneasy on airplanes- maybe Sean can hit me over the head with his hockey stock so I can be knocked out for the flight. I stuff my phone back into my pocket and wait patiently for my turn to order.

The barista gives me a warm smile, "Good morning, what would you like?"

"Morning," I smile back, "Could I get a pumpkin spice latte, venti, and a blueberry muffin please?"

She nods and punches in whatever into the register and tells me the total. Just as I'm about to hand her the money, a hand reaches from beside me with a 20 dollar bill. What the heck? Does this guy think he's a hot shot or something?

"I'll pay for hers," a familiar French Canadian accent pronounces and my heart knots up. Of course it's him who else would it be? I turn to see Claude flashing the barista a panty-melting smile. The girl blushes and looks back to me, waiting for my response once she tears her eyes from his attractive features.

"No I'm fine-don't bother," I say blankly, "here," I hand her the money once again as Claude retracts his $20. The barista gives me an odd look probably wondering if I was insane for not letting 'such a handsome guy' pay for my latte. She takes the $10 and gives me my change before Claude can persist. I quickly get out of line and move over to the second counter to wait for my drink. I tap my foot impatiently, I knew I should've went to a coffee shop further away. I silently pray that the guy making my latte hurries up- the last thing I want to do is talk to Claude.

I see his figure moving towards me out of my peripheral vision- please don't come over here. "Katina," he says as he approaches. His hat, identical to mine is pulled down far so no one can see his face particularly well- also to hide his unavoidable bed head. I recognized the grey hoodie he was wearing from his bedroom, which makes my stomach turn; try not to think about that night ever again, I think to myself as I put on a tough face so he can't see how much it hurts thinking about it. "What do you want Claude? I really don't want to talk right now," I admit, hoping he'd just back off.

"Woah, why so bitter Kat?" he winks with a cocky smirk; immediately I could tell he was really implying about last night. Thankfully, the guy calls out "Venti Pumpkin Spice latte!" and I leave Claude to grab my drink. Before I turn to leave, I approach Claude, "Listen up Giroux, I have half a mind to take this," I raise up my hand clutching the latte, "and dump it all over your fucking head. But I won't only because I don't want to waste it and I really need my coffee in the morning. Next time you talk to me, have the decency to take a shower first so I can't smell your last fuck's perfume all over you," I bark under my breath to avoid causing a scene. I make my way towards the door but I stop in my tracks once the cocky hockey player opens his mouth.