Arya was getting quite a thrill from being in Gendry's bedroom. Alright, his spare bedroom, but nearly there!

After she'd wriggled out of the skinny jeans and designer jacket she had a sneaky look around. She was wearing just her pants and silk vest and was secretly hoping he would walk back in and catch her going through his wardrobe in her underwear. The green and black (what was it with him and green?) leather racing suit hanging in the wardrobe was a definite addition for her "to do list". Hmm, Gendry in that, Gendry unzipping that, Gendry half way out of that so she could run her hands over his chest and abs and those arms, hmmm.

She had noticed her pants were pretty moist when she'd taken her jeans off so what on earth were they going to be like by the end of the date? Sopping wet at this rate. The other half of the wardrobe wasn't as interesting, so she moved to the head of the bed and opened the top bedside drawer.

Oh my God! Three boxes of condoms, a box of tissues and some lube. She was shocked and shut the drawer quickly. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Was she really shocked or was she thrilled? She felt a tightening in her belly and a flutter of anticipation. So this is where it happened in Gendry's flat. Was she going to loose her virginity in this room, on this bed? Oh God she hoped so. She hoped he would walk in right now and just do it to her.

He seemed to be affected by the same sexual tension that was making her pants wet. She'd noticed the bulge in his trousers as he'd squeezed past her, but how did she move this on to the next stage? How did she make it happen? Her plan to seducehim only went so far. Oh, she knew how to flirt, but she had no idea how she was going to seal the deal. Everyone at University just seemed to fall into bed with everyone else without anything really discernable happening. She had often thought there was some code she was missing, some secret she hadn't been told. Her male friends used to tell her that a hot girl could get laid anywhere, anytime she wanted. Arya thought that was a pretty sick joke. She couldn't get rid of it and was still a virgin at twenty! The most fuckably handsome guy she'd ever met was in the next room and she didn't know what to do about it. How did she get to be so pathetic?

Sighing, she sat down on the bed and began to unfasten the braces on his salopettes. They had a very high waist and, from her experience on the bike this morning, she guessed that was to cover your back and stop you freezing to death. The leather was thick and hard to manage. As she tugged the buckles out of the longest fastenings to move them into the shortest, the leather creaked and gave off a wonderfully familiar smell. Maybe it was just because her nerves were jangling and every sense was heightened, but the warm leather smell took her straight back to her childhood and memories of new saddles, the stables and riding with Sansa and her brothers. She sighed again. She hadn't realised until she came back just how much she had missed them all, missed Winterfell and missed the countryside. London was her future wasn't it? It was sophisticated and exciting but was it home?

The legs of the salopettes were easy to get on, but once she got to her bottom, things got a bit tighter. The leather was corrugated at the sides, to allow for movement, but as she tugged the trousers over her hips she realised she was still going to have trouble zipping them up. They were pretty tight over her arse. How had that happened? When did her arse get bigger than Gendry's? She looked over her shoulder into the mirrored door of the wardrobe to see how big her bum looked and was horrified. With no pockets to break up the expanse of shiny leather it looked massive! Argh! What could she do? Nothing. Her only other option was to put her jeans back on and go out there and freeze. Well, if it was good enough for Jennifer Lopez it was going to have to be good enough for her. Maybe Gendry like big arses she hoped weakly.

Next she had to get it zipped up the front. At the shortest fastening, the braces were still a bit loose over her shoulders, but her shoulders weren't the problem. They must have been designed to sit about six inches above Gendry's waist, but that was just where Arya's breasts were. She just couldn't get the two halves of the leather to meet. Wearing a bloody wonder bra, with the padding pulling her breasts together, giving her that deep cleavage she'd hoped to show off wasn't helping either. Shit. She lay down on the bed and tried to pull the zip up. She got it past her hips without too much effort, but she had to squash her chest with one hand while trying to manoeuvre the zip up with the other, all the while risking the silk of the thermal vest, already stretched tight across her breasts, getting caught in the zip. With a lot of pulling and squeezing she finally she managed it and sat up on the bed, feeling as if she was trussed into a corset.

She shrugged the jacket on, which was way too big, but as the style was quite short it didn't sit too far below her waist. It would do if she rolled back the sleeves a bit. It was warm and well worn, smelling deliciously of oil and aftershave. This was obviously his jacket and she got another little thrill from hugging it to her chest and thinking how damn hot it was to be wearing his clothes. God her pants were going to be wringing.

She pulled on her high heeled ankle boots and looked in the mirror. The bottom half was ok (if you liked big arses), the top half was ok, in a boyfriend jacket type of way, but her face surprised her. She was flushed and her pupils were dilated. So this was what being so turned on did to her. She liked it.

Her normally 'straightened-to-within-an-inch-of-it's-life' hair was flat on top due to the helmet, but wild and wavy where it had been sticking out, blowing in the wind. She tried to run her fingers through it to flatten it, but it was too tangled for her to even manage that. God, she hoped Gendry liked fat arses and 80's style hair.

Right Ayra she told herself, this is your big moment. If you've got it, flaunt it and work that arse!

As his jacket hid her shape, she took it off again, swung it over her shoulder and sashayed out of the bedroom, along the small hall and into the kitchen where her target was perched on a stool at the breakfast bar. Working the kitchen like it was a catwalk, she locked her eyes on his, strode up to him, turned round, bent over until she was almost touching her ankles and purred "Do you think my arse looks big in this?" she gave him a wiggle for extra effect.

Her hair had fallen down around her face obscuring her view of him. As she couldn't see what his reaction was, she paused for a few moments, hoping her show was having the desired effect, straightened up and turned round to look at him over her shoulder.

Yes! She got the reaction she was hoping for. His mouth was slack, his blue eyes heavy with lust as he eyed her up and down and round. He ran his hand through that, messed up sexy hair, shut his mouth, but then added to her triumph by licking his bottom lip.

She wanted it. She was now damn sure he wanted it, so when was he going to make his move? She couldn't have been more blatant about it. She was practically begging him for sex. Was this not what men wanted? Come on Gendry – say something!

She hadn't planned her next move – she'd not thought she'd be in his flat so soon, hadn't intended to do anything other than to walk out of his bedroom and show herself off. While she was watching him stare at her, his eyes flicked to something behind her, over her left shoulder. She watched his face change in an instant from blatant lust, to something like panic. What was behind her? He was already moving, trying to slide past her, but he was so damn big and the kitchen wasn't, that he couldn't get around her easily. She seized the opportunity to move first. She was much smaller and quicker than him. She squealed with laughter, knowing she'd caught him, whirled around and across the room, scanning the area she guessed had been behind her left shoulder moments before. When her eyes swept over the simple wooden frame holding the photograph of two figures, she knew she'd found her prize and would get to it before him.

Moments later he had already grabbed the picture back off her, but it was already too late. She'd seen it and it had brought her crashing down to earth - left her wanting to crawl out the door. How could she have been so stupid?

She'd forgotten everything about the damn picture until she'd seen it again just now. It had been taken on perhaps the last day she'd seen him before she left for University. For months that spring she had badgered her parents into holding a festival in the Winterfell grounds. Eventually they had reluctantly agreed and she alone had managed to get Gendry's favourite local metal band to appear. She had been so proud of herself, thought she was so grown up and sophisticated, thought he'd have been impressed and grateful to her for bringing him his band. But here was the truth, the cold hard truth, staring back at her from an old photograph in a plain wooden frame.

In the picture Gendry was right beside her, staring straight into the camera, looking so cool in a smouldering, sulky way. God, he had on the leather jacket she was wearing just now. She remembered she had been looking for him since the festival had begun, expecting him to be looking for her too, to thank her for booking his favourite band. When she'd eventually found him, sitting on the grass drinking with her brothers, she'd actually had to drag him up onto his feet to get her picture taken with him. Arya had ordered one of her brothers to take it. Which one, Jon or Robb, she couldn't remember and it didn't matter now as whichever one it was had done a great job of capturing the God-awful moment for ever: now coming back like a ghost from three years past to kick her in the teeth.

In the picture she was still holding his wrist, from where she'd pulled him to his feet. She was hanging on like a limpet after forced his arm around her shoulder. Her hair was so short it wasn't even managing to be spikey like she'd intended. Hadn't she been the height of Glastonbury cool when she'd cut off a pair of jeans into denim shorts? She could see now what a state they were. She could see where she'd cut them, one leg was shorter than the other and they weren't even cut straight across. Oh dear God - was that a camel toe? Argh! But the worst thing, the absolute worst thing, the killer blow, was the way she was staring up at him. She was simpering, with a pathetic love struck look of awe on her face. She could practically see the drool running down her chin. That was SO not how she remembered it. She'd hated boys – hadn't she? Dirty, smelly, pains in the arse and Gendry was the worst of them all – wasn't he? He had ignored her and she had ignored him hadn't she? She must have been delusional. How could she ever have thought she disliked him? She was struggling to come to terms with what she was seeing. Seeing properly for the first time. Her face, her entire body language in the photo was screaming the opposite of what she'd been telling herself for years. She looked like a pathetic teenage fan girl who'd just realised her life times ambition of getting THIS close to her pop idol and wasn't intending to let go. Ever.

She wanted to crawl under a rock or even his breakfast bar, but then he'd still be able to see her. She knew she was flushed scarlet. Her hot, sexy woman act was in tatters, her humiliation complete. How could she ever have thought she could get away with this with HIM? He must be having a right laugh at her now, must have been laughing at her since the doctors. Was that why he'd winked at her? He knew what she was up to, the game she'd been trying to play with him. Look at her! Lady Arya Stark, showing up, strutting around acting like she could snap her fingers and he'd come running, when, in truth, it was the other way round. All he had to do was snap his fingers, turn up on a big fuck-off motorbike and she'd come running, throwing herself at him again.

Dear God, all he had to say was "Give us your number then" in front of umpteen people in the fucking doctor's surgery and she'd not even had the good sense to give him her number – she'd taken his! She had thought she was going to seduce him, but she was just a pathetic little virgin throwing herself at him like all the rest. No doubt he had that effect on every girl he ever met. He was so good looking he must have to beat them off with a shitty stick. Why would he ever want her when he could have anyone?

He'd kept that picture of her mooning over him. God, he must have shown it to everyone who was ever in his flat. Was she the talk of the village? Poor Arya Stark and her unrequited love for that handsome big bastard Gendry Waters. He already had the proof, had it in his hand right now, that she was a pathetic little girl who was in love with him - had always been in love with him. Trailed after him and hung onto him like a wet blanket. No wonder he had avoided her for years. Shit! Shit! Shit!