Hey y'all...happy Friday! My summer is dwindling down...only a few weeks left before I go back to work :( I'm going to try to get as much writing done as I can before then. So far, this chapter has been my favorite one that I have written! I am still so thrilled that y'all are loving this story and I am really happy about all the love and support these characters are getting. I was really hesitant about writing a story with a sweet Sandor...since that's so out of the norm for him, but I am really glad that y'all like him so far :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this chapter, and as always...please leave a comment and let me know what you think! Happy reading xoxoxo

Except for the two hours Sandor had spent meeting with the other high school math teachers, Sandor had spent the majority of his Friday morning organizing his classroom. Through droopy, lazy eyes, Moses had watched Sandor unpack the rest of his boxes, hook up his smartboard, and wander aimlessly in cirlces around his room. Since the students were responsible for bringing their own supplies according to what was listed on the twelfth grade syllabus, Sandor didn't have to keep a ton in his room. But he always kept a stockpile of materials for the occasional student whose parents couldn't afford to buy them. Especially those outrageously expensive graphing calculators that were required for high school math. Sandor knew what it was like to grow up without having very much, and he hated seeing students doing without the things that they needed to be successful.

It was hot in his classroom. Or maybe it was just because he hadn't stopped moving since he set foot in the room. Either way, Sandor pulled his hat from his head and pulled the elastic band from his hair, shaking it loose. The school administration was lenient about Sandor's hair. Varys had told him that as long as Sandor kept his hair neat and not too far past his shoulders, he could keep it long. To stay in good faith with his boss, Sandor visited the barber shop in town every month for a trim. If anyone asked him, Sandor would deny that he kept his hair long to hide his scars. Most of the time he had it pulled back or had a hat on his head, but he did in fact keep it long in case he wanted it to hide behind. Everyone in town knew him and had gotten used to what he looked like. However, Sandor liked knowing that he had his curtain of solitude to cover his deformity, should he ever need it.

The heat was making him perspire, and his t-shirt was sticking to his sweaty torso. His days of wearing casual clothes were numbered. Once the students started back, Sandor would have to exchange his t-shirts and jeans for khakis and button up shirts and polo shirts. He still wore his square toed cowboy boots, and had a pair he kept nice just for school. After teaching his classes, he would always change into athletic clothes for football practice. This usually consisted of gym shorts and a t-shirt or sweatpants and a hoodie when it was cold. In addition to changing his wardrobe, Sandor would also soon have to watch his foul mouth more closely. Of course the occasional curse word on the football field could be overlooked, but cussing in the classroom he knew would get him into trouble. More than once or twice, Sandor had come dangerously close to slipping up with his language while teaching.

With a grunt, Sandor scraped his hair back and looped it before securing it with the elastic band. He slid his hat onto his head and heaved a sigh. All morning, Sandor had been trying and failing miserably to come up with an excuse to ask Sansa for her phone number. There was no way he could just walk up to her, ask her for her digits, then kick rocks. Oh no. This required planning. Conversation had to be initiated that smoothly gave way to a reason for needing her phone number. Dwelling on his long list of failed theories on how to accomplish his task, Sandor ambled to the window. With two long fingers, he pushed the blinds aside to peek out into the parking lot. Sandor knew he would be telling a huge lie if he said he hadn't parked next to the black Honda with the Georgia plates on purpose. He had known exactly what he had been doing that morning as he artfully backed his large truck into the parking space next to the small sedan. It had been done in hopes of accidentally running into Sansa as they left their buildings in the afternoon. Another lie. If Sandor ran into Sansa as they approached their vehicles, it would definitely not be an accident. Sandor had almost talked himself into walking to Sansa's building to see if she had eaten lunch yet when he heard male voices behind him.

"We've got pizza!"

Sandor turned and saw Tormund and Beric enter his room carrying three large boxes of pizza.

"What the hell are you doing staring out the window?" Inquired Tormund.

Sandor grunted as he walked across the room. "Not a damn thing. Meat lovers?"

Beric laughed and lowerd the stack of boxes down onto one of the student desks. "For you, of course."

Despite the fact that his friends had ruined his hypothetical lunch plans with Sansa, Sandor couldn't deny the fact that he was starving. And pizza sounded damn good. Besides Bronn and Ray, Tormund and Beric were Sandor's only other close friends. Tormund taught chemistry and life science and coached the junior varsity football team with Davos Seaworth. On the field, he was brutal and rough. But in the classroom, he was known for his jovial, laid back attitude. More times than Sandor could count, Tormund had worn a t-shirt to school that said "I love telling chemistry jokes. But I usually get no reaction." Beric taught world geography, a subject that was well known to him due to his stint traveling in the Army. During his years of service, he had lost his right eye and had resulted to wearing an eye patch to cover the damage. Sandor claimed one of the pizza boxes as his own and sank into his desk chair and promptly propped his boots up on the corner of his desk.

Between his bites of pizza, Tormund mumbled, "You've got shit tables manners, Clegane."

"Yeah, and you talk with your mouth full."

Beric was being oddly quiet. But Sandor knew him well and knew that when he was being quiet, it usually meant he was about to ask a question. He only hoped Beric wasn't going to ask ab-

"Hey have y'all met the new kindergarten teacher yet?"

Tormund immediately dropped the slice of pizza he had been working on into the box that sat in his lap. "I haven't met her, but I've sure seen her. She's beautiful! Another beautiful ginger. We could use a little more color at this school."

Opting to stay out of the conversation as much as possible, Sandor busied himself with his pizza and tried his absolute best to seem nonchalant. Tormund however, kept running his mouth.

"I wonder if she's single..."

After a chuckle, Beric spoke up agian. "I think she might already be spoken for."

Tormund let his mouth hang open. "By who? Who could have possibly gotten to her already?"

Beric turned his amused smile to Sandor, who froze with his pizza raised halfway to his mouth. "What? What are you lookin' at me for?"

"Oh I dunno, Clegane...maybe because you were seen leaving the school parking lot with her in the front seat of your truck last night."

With an annoyed grunt, Sandor wiped his hands in his jeans as he quickly scrambled out of his chair. "I've got to go take a sh-"

Even though Sandor was quick, Beric was quicker. He reached out and grabbed Sandor's belt and yanked back so hard Sandor almost lost his balance before he fell back into his seat. "Ooooh no you don't, Clegane! You can shit later. You're going to sit right here and tell us all about your little date with Sansa."

Elsewhere in the school, Sansa had been diligently putting the finishing touches on her classroom. Margaery had enthusiastically clapped her hands together as Sansa told her about her evening with Sandor. She had practically exploded when Sansa had asked which room in the high school building was Sandor's.

Though Sansa couldn't exactly say why she wanted to go to his room, or what she would say to him once she arrived, she found herself walking down the long hallway of his building. As she approached the last door on the right, the unmistakable smell of pizza wafted to her nose, and the sound of men's voices reached her ears. Not wanting to be seen just yet, Sansa edged down the hallway close to the wall. One of the voices she knew was Sandor's. The other two she couldn't place. Careful to miss the large metal rolling cart full of student Chromebooks, Sansa inched closer with her back pressed to the wall. She stopped just a few feet away from the doorway to Sandor's classroom. A man whose voice she didn't recognize, followed by a loud thud could be heard.

"Ooooh no you don't, Clegane! You can shit later. You're going to sit right here and tell us all about your little date with Sansa."

Frozen in place, Sansa flattened herself flush to the cinderblock wall and listened with earnest. They're talking about me! Eavesdropping is bad, Sansa. Very very bad! You should probably leave right now. Despite the urging of the logical side of her brain, Sansa remained in place and craned her neck to hear better.

"It wasn't a date." She heard Sandor insist. Even though she had assured Margaery the exact same thing not but a few hours ago, Sansa couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment upon hearing Sandor say what they had wasn't a date.

"We just had a cup of coffee together."

Sansa heard another man with a deep, smooth voice reply. "And just where did y'all go?"

"I took her back to my place."

"What?!" A man with a loud, gruff voice exclaimed. "Anything happen?!"

"No...nothing happened. We talked, we drank coffee, I drove her home, we hugged. That was it."

"How come you took her to your place and not Olenna's?"

Sandor's sigh could be heard, followed by his voice. "Cause I wanted to spend more than just thirty minutes with her."

When Sansa heard him admit that Sandor had wanted to spend more time with her, she could feel her heart fluttering against her chest, threatening to burst out and soar away. Ok, you've had your fun, Sansa...time to leave. Before you hear something you wish you hadn't.

"Plus if I had taken her to the coffee shop, half the town would think we're sleeping together. You know how folks around here are and how they like to assume things."

Someone in the room grunted in agreement. "But you want to sleep with her...don't you?"

Oh shit...Sansa you are about to find out exactly what kind of man Sandor Clegane is... Sansa squeezed her eyes shut and prepared herself for the worst.

The unmistakable sound of Sandor's deep laughter drifted into the hallway. "Well, yea I want to sleep with her. Who wouldn't? She's a fuckin' knockout."

Fucking knockout. Ok, knockout is fine... I'll take it. But did he have to throw 'fucking' in there? Sansa winced and covered her mouth to stifle the labored breaths spilling from her lungs.

"But..." When she heard Sandor's voice continue, Sansa's stomach did an involuntary flip.

"...I'm only gonna say this once, so y'all listen good. That is not the reason I am pursuing her. I...shit, I dunno...I like her."

He likes me... The thirteenth year old girl inside Sansa was doing cartwheels around and around her brain.

Booming laughter from Sandor's unknown companions could be heard. "OHH...OHH...Clegane is pursuing a woman!"

"Clegane has evolved! You've got a crush on this woman!"

Panic set in when Sansa heard the creak of a desk chair as weight left it. "Ok, fuck you...and...fuck you." The laughter continued as heavy footsteps came closer to the doorway.

Shit, shit, shit! Desperate to get away, Sansa whirled around and forced her wobbly legs to carry her down the hallway. As she lifted her leg to take another running step, her foor crashed right into the forgotten rolling cart full of laptops. Sickening pain, the kind you can only get from destroying your delicate toe on something hard, surged through Sansa's body as she sank down to one knee.

"OOWWW!" She hissed as she let her bottom fall to the floor in the middle of the hallway. "Ow...shit! Ow, ow, ow!" Sansa reached a hand down to examine the middle toe she had hit.

"Sansa?!"

Oh fuck. Here we go. Sansa squeezed her eyes shut momentarily and let the humiliation wash over her as she opened them and sheepishly looked up at Sandor.

"What are you...are you ok? What happened?" The concern in his voice couldn't be missed as he knelt next to Sansa's side. Neither could the horror on his face of the realization that she had just heard him tell his friends that yes, he wanted to sleep with her.

Sansa heard the laughter of the men who were in the classroom as they leaned out of the doorway with astonished, wide mouth smiles on their faces. Sandor turned and snapped at them. "You two, out!"

The men disappeared back into the room and then rushed out the back door, pizza boxes in hand, laughing all the while.

"They're not laughing at you, they're laughing at me." Sandor assured her as he pushed himself back upright and held his hand out for her. "Can you stand?"

With all the dignity Sansa could muster, which wasn't very much, she took his hand and braced against it to pull herself up. She put some weight on her foot but immediately balked at the pain and drew it back up.

With a chuckle, Sandor bent slightly and scooped her up. "Come on, stumblefoot. Let's get you fixed up." With one arm tucked under her knees and the other around her back, Sandor carried her through the doorway, careful not to hit her feet or her head on the doorframe.

A small gasp shot from Sansa's mouth as Sandor effortlessly picked her up. Instinctively, she put her arms around his neck and pulled herself close. From where she was cradled in his arms, she had a good view of the scarred side of his face. She was close enough to reach out and touch it, and wanted to, but didn't. Although she did allow herself to wonder how it would feel under her fingertips. Hard or soft? Smooth or rough? At once, she decided she didn't care what it felt like. All she cared about was her desire to one day be able to kiss and touch every inch of his face. Scars and all.

With surprising finesse of a man who was so large in size, Sandor lowered Sansa onto his desk. He quickly pulled up a chair facing her, sat down and raised her foot up to prop on his knee.

"Sandor, you really don't have to...please, I'll be alright." Sandor ignored her and continued to assess the damage. "Really, my feet are probably disgusting...I've been runnin' around cleaning in my flip flops..."

Feigning annoyance, Sandor looked up at her with a sideways smile. "You think I'm scared of your little grocery store feet? I deal with this shit with my players all the time...only with them there's no tellin' where their nasty, athlete's foot infested, teenage feet have been."

Sansa watched as Sandor took a first aid kit from a drawer in the desk she sat on top of. Once he resumed his position in front of her with her heel propped on his knee, he asked her to try to bend her toe. Sandor watched her closely, gauging the level of pain on her face. Sansa winced, but was able to curl her toes towards the ball of her foot. The sight of Sansa curling her toes made Sandor immediately want to see those toes curl again for other reasons. Reasons that involved her being underneath him as her body shook in response to his tender caresses. Sandor shook his head and cleared his throat. "Uh...doesn't look broken, probably just sprained." Sandor mumbled as he took a roll of athletic tape from the first aid kit. After tearing a length of tape from the roll, Sandor ripped it in half lengthwise and slipped it between Sansa's hurt toe and the one next to it.

Sansa's lips parted with apprehensive breaths when she felt Sandor gently wrap the tape around her toes. He glanced up and saw her pull her bottom lip into her teeth as she flushed an adorable shade of pink. Sandor wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her ankles, her calves, trail his rough lips up her slender thigh. He wanted to nuzzle his stubble covered cheek at the junction where her thigh met her hip. Actions that would probably more or less get him slapped at that moment in time. Instead, he asked one of the most awkward questions of his life. "So...uh...what...what all did you hear? A few minutes ago?"

After stealing a nervous glance up at Sansa, he heard her terse, one word answer. "Enough."

Oh fuck. Fuck! I am so fucked. Sandor heaved a sigh and began to formulate an apology in his head as he stuck the end of the tape back onto itself. His stomach tightened when he heard Sansa continue.

"Enough to realize you're a better man than most. Enough to want to get to know you better."

Wait...what?! In an unbelieving stupor, Sandor mouthed his exact thoughts out loud. "Wait...what?"

A small laugh came from Sansa's beautiful lips as she slid her hips off the edge of the desk and put her feet on the floor. "Most men who were talking about a woman with their guy friends and thought no one was listening...which I'm sorry for that, by the way...probably wouldn't have said what you said. About that not being the reason you were...pursuing me." The last two words were said with such sweetness that it made Sandor want to gather her in his arms and lay kisses from her neck to her forehead. With careful steps, Sansa hobbled to the white board in Sandor's room and picked up a dry erase marker.

Well fuck me! Score one point for being a gentleman. Sandor quickly scrambled for something to say that mirrored a better version of his thoughts. "Told you I could be a gentleman."

After flashing Sandor a shy smile over her shoulder, Sansa turned back to the board, uncapped the marker and proceeded to write something. Sandor couldn't help by lean over in his chair to try and see what she was writing. He snapped back upright as Sansa turned back around and stepped slowly away. His stubborn, infatuated mind refused to work as what she had written came into view. Numbers. Lots of numbers. Parentheses. Holy shit! "Is that your ph-" Sandor's voice failed him as he attemped his question.

"My phone number, yes."

Well I'll be damned.

"So Margaery is still pretty insistent on taking me out tonight to that place...what was it called again?"

"The Rivershack."

"Yes! That's the one." Sansa stood in the doorway that led to the hall and idly twirled a lock of hair from her ponytail. "Are you going to be-"

"Yes." Sandor hadn't meant to answer her before she could even get the whole question out. Or in such a loud voice. He could feel the tip of his good ear burning with red-hot embarrassment that was quickly spreading over the rest of his face.

Sansa giggled and turned to leave. Before she did, she gestured to the board with her eyes. "Well, text me later."

Abruptly, Sandor stood up. "Do you need help walking back to your classroom? I've got a good shoulder to lean on." The hopefulness in his voice had borderlined desperation and Sandor grimmaced at how his words sounded.

With a sweet smile, Sansa shook her head. "No, I think I'll be able to manage. Thank you though." She glanced down at her bandaged toes. "And thank you for taking care of me." She added quietly.

"No problem." Sandor picked up the roll of athletic tape and handed it to her. "Here, take this. You'll probably want to keep that toe bandaged for a day or two."

"Won't you need this for your first aid kit?"

"Nah, I can swipe another roll from the locker room."

"Thank you. Well, I guess I'll see you later?" The last part was spoken like a question.

Nodding his head, Sandor replied, "You bet."

After Sansa disappeared from sight, Sandor sank back into his chair to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He addressed Moses, who was still snoozing on his bed. "You saw that, right?" Moses snorted in response. Sandor dug his phone from his pocket and quickly saved Sansa's number in his phone, double and triple checking to make sure his trembling fingers had typed in the numbers in the correct order. When he was done, he opened his texts, but not to send one to her. First, he needed backup.

Sandor: Hey man can I ask you a dumb question?

Bronn: Better than anyone I know.

Sandor: Ha fucking ha. I'm serious man.

Bronn: Ok, shoot.

Sandor: So when a woman gives you her phone number and tells you to text her later, how do I know when "later" is?

Bronn: Ahh so you asked the lovely Sansa for her phone number! I'm proud of you man!

Sandor rolled his eyes at the phone screen. He wasn't too surprised that Bronn knew about he and Sansa...Margaery must have told him. Not that he was mad or anything, he knew Margaery told Bronn everything. And after all, she had seen him writing notes to Sansa during the meeting. It wasn't like he was trying to be subtle about it.

Sandor: ACTUALLY she gave it to me without me having to ask for it.

Bronn: Uh oh, look out! Movin on up in the world Clegane!

Sandor: So anyway, back to my question. When should I text her?

Bronn: When are you goin to see her next?

Sandor: Tonight, Margaery wanted all of us to go to The Rivershack. Didn't she tell you?

Bronn: Oh yeah! Fuck I forgot about that. I'll be there after my shift. Definitely text her before then.

Sandor: What should I say?

Bronn: Hell I don't know dickhead! I've been with Margaery so long I don't know how to flirt with a new girl anymore!

Bronn: You are an intelligent man, I'm sure you'll think of somethin.

Sandor: Aight, well thanks for your help, asswipe.

Bronn: You're welcome Professor Dickwad.

Even though Sansa was able to put weight on her foot, her toe was throbbing by the time she made it back to her classroom. It was starting to turn an unusual shade of purple and blue. Yet another memento of my less than amazing luck with men. In the hallway, Pod and Margaery were chatting and noticed her labored movements.

"Damn, Sansa! What happened?" Pod asked as they rushed after her into her classroom.

The humiliation still prevalent on her face, Sansa shook her head and laughed. "Don't ask."

"Gah what'd Sandor do, girl? Stomp on your foot?" Margaery asked with her arms crossed over her chest.

With a roll of her eyes and a giggle, Sansa regained her coworkers with her stellar tale of how she had run into the rolling cart after hearing Sandor and his friends talking.

Both Margaery and Pod were reduced to fits of laughter by the time Sansa had finished. "Wait, wait, wait... can we back up for a hot second?" Margaery held her hand up with a wide grin. "You overheard him say that he wanted to sleep with you?!" Her eyes were wide with delight at the idea.

"Well yeah, but it's what he said afterwards that got me." Sanda turned her attention to Pod. "Pod, you're a man..."

"You don't miss a thing, do you Sansa?"

She shot him a withering look. "Well how many men do you know of that would admit something like that to their guy friends? That he was pursuing me for reasons other than sleeping with me?"

Pod raised his eyes to the ceiling as he thought. "Well, not very many I guess. Most would have said something a lot more raunchy."

With her wide smile still on her face, Margaery waggled her finger at Sansa. "Sandor's a sweetheart..."

"So it seems."