Got It Bad

Clarabelle Brennan had fifteen minutes to get to class before she was late to one of the most important lectures of the semester. She had decided to go and get coffee at the café just around the corner from her apartment building and hadn’t realized how crowded it was. She was exhausted from staying up all night perfecting the sketch she had to turn in for her Basic and Classic Cakes course. It was a five tiered monster of a wedding cake, draped with flowers and pearls. It was elegant and enticing, and it was probably going to get her an F in the course because it was neither basic nor classic.

Clara was so consumed in her thoughts, and her delicious French Vanilla Bean latte, that she didn’t see the huge man in front of her. She certainly saw the man when she was staring up at him from her place on the floor, where she none-too-graciously sat sprawled from bumping into him and the contents of her bag decorating the floor.

“God damn it, not again,” she said, gathering the things closest to her. The man she bumped into helped and held out her things for him to grab, which she accepted. “Thanks. Sorry about, uh, bumping into you. Shoulda been paying attention.” Clara shrugged more to herself than to him, once again securing the bag over her shoulder. She knew she should have gotten a bag that had a zipper.

“I wasn’t watching for anyone to be heading my way. Think I should know by now,” the man shrugged and Clara recognized him immediately. It didn’t hurt that she could see people blatantly watching the scene unfolding, some even scrambling to find a pen and paper for the man to sign. She hoped the disgust she felt didn’t show on her face. So instead she gave him a dazzling fake smile, beginning to walk by him.

“Well, no harm, no foul. I have my coffee and my things. Now I have to get to class.” She gave him one of those fake goodbye waves, the kind where people flutter their fingers. Clara hated those waves, and it was perfect for the moment because she was feeling fake enough as it was. After all, she had literally run into Sidney Crosby and she had to resist the urge to tell him all the things she’d wanted to ever since he joined the league.

“Wait,” Clara heard him call, and she closed her eyes, let out a sigh and plastered the fake smile on her face before turning around.

“Yes?” she asked, once again resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“You didn’t recognize me?” He asked and her eyes widened. Okay, maybe she should have just told him that he seriously needed to work on not diving. It probably would have caused him to leave her alone. Instead, she just gave him a look that she hoped said “are you kidding me right now?”

“No, I did. Why, do I get a medal if I don’t know who you are?” she asked sarcastically, not suppressing the roll eyes anymore.

“No, uh, I just—”

“What, thought I should care that you are Sidney Crosby?” His cheeks and ears got red and Clara felt… she didn’t know how she felt. Not happy, but amused that she got that reaction out of him. “Sorry, bud, if you’re looking for a girl that cares, you have a whole café full. Now if you would excuse me…” Not waiting for a response, Clara turned around and strode right out into the brisk October air. She was already down to ten minutes to get to class, and she couldn’t afford to be late. All thoughts of Sidney Crosby were pushed out of her head; she had more important things to worry about.



Nearly a month since he had ran into the girl in the small café, he couldn’t get her off his mind. He didn’t know what it was about it. He had been going to the café every other day in the hopes that he would see her again. Absolutely pathetic, right? Yeah, his team thought so too, and they ribbed him about it all the time.

“Oh, going to that coffee shop again, eh Sid?” Max Talbot said with a shit-eating grin on his face. Sid just rolled his eyes, buttoning up his shirt.

“Does it matter either way?” Sid asked pointedly, shrugging into his coat.

“Mon ami, you have it bad for this girl, and you’ve only seen her once.”

“Leave it Max,” Sid said shortly, before bidding farewell to the rest of his teammates and trudging out of the CONSOL Energy Center. It was still early in the day, just a few minutes past eleven in the morning. The sky was surprisingly bright, considering rain was being forecasted for most of the week.

Sid just started walking out of the CONSOL parking lot, not really having a destination in mind. He hoped his glasses and hat hid enough of his face no one would bother him on the street. He just wanted to take a walk around before heading back to his home in Sewickley. He’d always wanted to wander around Pittsburgh like this, just by himself, without being mobbed by people. He usually didn’t go too far to disguise himself in the public, but today was a day where he just wanted to be on his own and with his thoughts.

It was because of these thoughts that he didn’t see the woman in front of him, who he collided with. “Damn it, not again,” the woman groaned, already scrambling to collect her papers. Sidney helped her and couldn’t help but notice many different cake designs on the pages in his hands.

“These look great, are you a cake maker?” he asked without thinking, looking at the woman for the first time since he bumped into her. It was the same one he had bumped into in the café. “You!” he exclaimed, a hesitant smile creeping onto his lips. She just gave him a wary look before holding out a hand for her papers back.

“No, I’m going to school for baking and pastry arts; these are designs for my classes.” She still held out her hand for her papers, and he held them farther back.

“I’m not giving them back to you until you tell me your name and say yes to getting coffee with me,” he stated, a very Jordan Staal smirk gracing his lips for a moment. She made a gagging sound in the back of her throat, effectively wiping the grin off of Sid’s face.

“Name’s Clara Brennan. And now would you really want to be seen out in public with someone who wasn’t a Penguins fan? It might cause anarchy,” she stated. Sid’s eyes drifted down, just now noticing the emblem on her chest and the color of her shirt under her jacket. He was still staring there even as Clara took her papers back from his hand and walked away.

Fucking hell, I would get hung up on a damn Flyers fan.