The Voice in My Head Is Telling Me I Best Be Moving On

Frivolous chatter sounded from the corner of the conference room as the meeting had come to an end and attendees dispersed around to the snack table. Snickers, chortles, and giggles resulted at the extent of alcohol making its appearance in a glorifying light. The mood gradually built up in what could have been the resemblance of a warm pumpkin latte in the state of being relished by its drinker, for enjoyment was just as easy to obtain. The pleasure was all but wondrous to endure as individuals conversed with one another, however it wasn't until a precarious joke was sprouted that someone misinterpreted it and threw a tantrum.

It was at this moment that June caught the attention of a disarray of ginger she liked to have classified as Claude Giroux, the captain of the Philadelphia Flyers. His azure eyes washed over her figure, analyzing her placid disposition. She was a stoic- completely shielding away her inner feelings although he knew the joke negatively targeted her as well as the guy flipping the bird to everyone at his departure from also being insulted. Admiration itched at his skin at the sight of her gracefully turning away with tonic in hand. Her personality taking the form as an embellishment captivated every molecule swimming through Claude's body. He would have taken to violent measures if it were him offended, his anger habitually getting the best of him.

As the room quieted down from what chaos inflicted the air just before, the young man soon found himself wanting to call out to June for her to come hither. Claude wanted to talk to her, to fulfill his curiosity of whether her voice was as suave as her persona let on or if her eyes conveyed what same mysterious altitudes resonated off of her. Though, the impediments were too bold for him to overcome; he could not get by without standing out. Someone as popular as himself could not scurry away to someone as insipid as June without being followed by wandering eyes. The struggle was surreal, a concept so foreign to Claude that it made his heart beat faster out of frustration.

Just then, palpitations ceased upon the leer of the young lady onto him. Her gaze was almost as if speaking words, a gibberish even, all the while in an attempt to beckon the Flyers' captain over. Come here, her dark eyes whispered, I won't bite...

Claude immediately felt his nerves jump, triggering a cold sweat; he had been caught staring. Though somehow, a small smile peaked through his nervous comportment. It signaled for Jude to quit her stubborn attitude, which was communicated moments ago by her stare, to instead enlighten him of her being closer on his part of the room. Deep inside, he yearned for what vibes found their way to her to admit what desperation he felt overcome him. If it was as strong and robust as he experienced, then Claude was assured that it would persuade her to move and join him by his side.

Calculating eyes glued to her form only increased what pressure he was sure she felt. June had to make a decision- a vital one at that- to either introduce herself into Claude's life or to forever be excluded from it. She didn't know what dangers lied beyond crossing the room and engaging herself into a conversation with the infamous hockey captain. Though, as the clock audibly struck midnight, June found herself compelled to taking careful steps in the direction of the young man. Reciprocating a smile back, she had made up her mind.