Told you these two were obsessed with each other!
And yep, back to a long chapter #sorrynotsorry
Keep the feedback coming, I love knowing that you guys are enjoying this journey thus far. And my sweet reviewers, I read them all with a smile on my face and appreciate you so much!
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Hi!" She beams at me. She looks exactly the same as this morning but I appreciate every inch of her once more.
It takes me a moment to blink myself out of my stupor and unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. "Hey." I finally manage.
We stand there staring at each other for a beat longer than what is polite. Maybe she feels this pull between us too...
"You ready?" I finally ask.
"Yep! Let's go." Sansa is grinning so big her face must hurt.
After locking her door we head to the lift and our usual silence falls between us. When we enter the elevator and when the doors close, it all shifts.
It feels as though there's no air, the space around the two of us is almost physically crackling with something intoxicating and I have to clench my fists to stop myself from grabbing Sansa and pulling her against me.
I sneak a glance at her, out the corner of my eye, to see if I'm standing there, suffocating alone in my pull for this woman.
I'm relieved when I see color in Sansa's cheeks and notice her chest moving a bit quicker than usual.
We both exhale a sigh when we exit the lift into the parking garage. I decided we should take my G Wagon so we're not cramped. Making sure to reach her door first, I press the fob to unlock it and open it for her.
She looks tickled fucking pink. "What a gentleman. Thank you." Sansa says, brushing closer to me than she needed, to get into her seat.
Shaking some sense back into myself, I stride around to my side, hopping in and get us on the road.
"How was work?" Sansa asks me as soon as we hit daylight. And she's genuinely interested. When's the last time someone gave a shit about my day? Besides my "family."
I can't admit that the mere thought of doing this with her kept me from finishing my tasks. "Not bad. I do a lot on weekends and from home, wasn't much to catch up on."
"We have something in common there. I like working from home but you definitely have to learn to push yourself since the environment is different."
How I thought this woman was some rookie romance novelist or simply a model makes me feel like a total fool now. She's bright, mature and insightful.
And I'm fucking whipped.
"Have you been able to work on your new book since you moved in?" I find myself asking, surprising myself. I really shouldn't be, I'm desperate to know everything about her.
Sansa sighs. "Not yet and I'm having a bit of trouble with it anyway. I actually got the first set of revised edits for my third novel and I need to knock those out first."
Our easy chatter follows us all the way until we reach the grocery store. Sansa unloads, like the night before, about her current writers block and I don't give her a chance to apologize. Just like when I first met her, she could talk endlessly about everything or nothing and I want to hear it all.
Sansa admits that this is the first time her and her editor aren't seeing eye to eye on some changes for her book and she knows it will be a long couple of weeks ahead.
I don't know what the fuck to say, what was right, what was wrong. Instead, I speak my mind, remembering that she seems to like the fact I'm an honest son of a bitch.
"Don't compromise your hard work and what you think is right simply to please someone behind a desk. You have one novel that's about to be a best seller and another on the way, you know what the hell you are doing and the stories are yours, not theirs."
I park the car as I finish talking and turn to see Sansa staring at me in apparent awe. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before a brilliant smile covers her face. "Thank you Sandor. I need that reminder sometimes. I can give in too easily." She squeezes my hand where it rests on the middle console and then gets out the wagon.
I meet Sansa at the back of my car, still half dazed at her reaction to my words, where she's grabbing her reusable shopping bags that honestly look too fancy to even use. She gives me a soft smile as I lock up and we make our way over to grab our grocery carts.
It had been raining earlier and other than the puny little waste of space carts, there's only one large one that's dry enough to even put your hands on. Sansa doesn't miss a beat, pulling it out of its spot in the back, placing her bags and purse in the small child seat at the front.
"Looks like we'll have to share." She grins at me. "I promise not to sneak all my wine and chocolate in with your things." Her tinkling laughter makes my heart flip flop.
How is she so comfortable around me? Not just a person that's brand new in her life but my scarred, old self? The question that is really bothering me though and demanding to be answered, is how I'm the bloody hells do I feel the same about her?
I catch up easily, having been lost in my own thoughts for a second too long, and we set off on our trek to fill our empty cabinets.
I refuse to allow my mind to use the word that Bronn had thrown around so easily earlier today, domestic. Because that is exactly what the fuck this is. Sansa lets me know the things she's looking for and we go down every aisle, taking turns putting our belongings on our sides of the cart.
In between talk of food and other necessary items, Sansa shares memories and stories that are triggered by something she sees or she simply wants to make me laugh, I swear. It takes me about thirty times longer than normal to look around and see who might be staring at me. But I notice right away they're not staring at me , they're staring at us .
I can't put together if Sansa truly is this touchy-feely of a person or if she's just finding excuses to touch me . Every time she wants my attention she glides her hand along my knuckles or pats my forearm. If I'm looking for something on a shelf, she'll slide up right next to me, on her tippy toes to grab gods knows what, her position ensuring I see the sliver of her stomach that's exposed by her raised shirt. The perfect skin making my mouth water and jeans tighten.
I know that we've been talking and joking the entire time, even if she is leading the way. But she brings something out of me, something better, and I find myself telling her my better memories. There aren't many, none of them spectacular, but there has been a positive air to my life thanks to certain people that came into it.
The other patrons seem to notice this, and us, and to my absolute, utter bewilderment, most of them just shoot happy looking glances our way and an older couple even smiles at us.
A snotty looking woman takes in my face and her own pales as she pushes her cart quickly away. Then there's a group of young bachelors, probably college boys, who appreciate Sansa way too fucking much. However, they quickly stop their oogling when they see me standing next to her.
Especially since I have my body directly behind hers, my chest touching her back, reminiscent of this morning. I reach above and around her to grab the olive oil she was struggling to grasp, and I hear breath hitch.
"Here you go little bird." I say close to her ear before I go back to the front of our cart.
It Sansa a few seconds to catch up with me.
I would've helped her regardless, but the looks of shock and disappointment on the boys' stupid faces will keep me smiling for days. Two negative experiences in a crowded store, on a busy day? That's unheard of for me and it feels bloody fantastic to not be hunched over, trying to race out of the place.
We make our way to the perishables and produce next and Sansa's face falls farther than I've seen in the short time I've known her and she lets out a huge sigh.
"I already miss our local farmers market. Selfishly, because everything is so fresh and so much better than a grocery store. Even though this one is lovely and beyond any expectation I had for the city." She rushes out and looks at me with a concerned tug of her eyes, worried she's upset me.
I shake my head and wave her off, making sure she knows I don't care what she thinks about this fucking store. I'll take her to a thousand more as long as she's happy and I get to spend time with her.
Sansa looks relieved. "But it's nice to help the farmers and their families too. I can't imagine how hard they work and let's be honest, we know they don't get as much income from these places."
Don't say it, don't you dare!
"There's a good farmers market in the city. A bit of a drive but it's worth it."
What the fuck did I just do?
"Oh really!" Sansa's face transforms back to happiness in the blink of an eye and I feel my chest almost puff out in pride at being the reason why.
At least don't dig the hole deeper you idiot!
Going against my subconscious, or perhaps it's the bitter old dog who lives in my mind as well, I can't always tell them apart, I continue speaking.
"It's open every Saturday afternoon. We could go this weekend?"
Sansa literally gives a little clap of her hands and her smile threatens to blind me.
"That would be wonderful Sandor! But I feel like I'm taking up all of your time, I don't want to be a burden." She says to me and I can tell right away that she's truly worried.
Is it the fact that she can't tell at all what she does to me? I doubt I'm that good of an actor. Or did someone make her feel this way and cause her to be insecure in a flash, almost on instinct? If it's the latter, I best enjoy my time with her before I go to jail for murder.
"I don't think you've ever been a burden in your life." I tell her, adding some heat to my voice in an attempt to try and flirt with her. It's one talent I definitely have not fucking mastered.
Perhaps I'm getting better at it though, Sansa bites her bottom lip as her cheekbones are tinged pink.
"I haven't been in too long, just bloody lazy to make the drive, but it's a nice place for an afternoon out." I continue.
"I would love to go. Thank you." Sansa gives me a sweet smile and keeps walking.
When she sees the reason I like this store so much she's almost as excited as she was about the farmers market.
There is an actual wine bar and cellar in the place and it's fucking awesome.
We make our way into the section and ware immediately greeted by their chipper sommelier. I come here often and the young man greets me without even looking at my scars. He does give Sansa a once over and then a raised eyebrow to me. I say nothing and bark at him to put my usual order in for delivery and ask for a couple of single bottles to keep me going while I wait for the case to arrive at my house.
Ordering wine by the case is so much easier.
He and I walk Sansa through the ordering process and then her and I even sample a few different types. Standing there having good wine and cheese with her is more fun than I've had in my whole life. Gods I'm lame.
After Sansa has made her own selection and also grabbed some vino for the interim, we finally make our way to the cashier. As we're waiting in line she starts grabbing an assortment of their earth friendly bags.
"Since I don't think you simply forgot your own at home I insist on getting these for you. We all have to do our part in saving the planet, it's the only one we have." She tells me, her chin up in the air leaving no room for argument.
I stare at her long enough that she actually has to tug the end of the cart to move us up as it's almost our turn.
"If you insist." I reply, raising my hands in mock surrender.
Sansa just laughs and goes through her choices, making sure she's picked the best bags for me.
She looks positively smug and I almost want to tell her that she could get me to agree to anything. I don't though, mostly because it's beyond forward for me and also, I'd miss her fire and spunk when she tries to convince me to do something.
We pay for and pack up our purchases and then I load them all into my trunk, not allowing her to help. I'm shocked she hasn't even tried to protest and I see why when I turn to grab the last bag. Sansa is watching me, mostly my arms as I empty the cart.
She only snaps out of her appraising, once I close the door, clearing her throat and rushing to return the car to its spot. I get into my car trying not to dwell on what just happened, and turn it on, waiting for her to join me. Sansa is still seemingly a little flustered and hardly makes eye contact while she's buckling her seatbelt.
It doesn't take her long though to relax once again and start up that steady stream of conversation she's so bloody good at. I can tell she's had quite enough of spilling her guts while I simply listen and ask questions.
Sansa begins almost drilling me, but it could never be taken that way from her, it's too warm and gentle. She is eager to know all about Bronn and I's company.
It takes the entire car ride home and the walk to her flat to give her a still pretty condensed version of that part of my life.
She didn't ask about Bronn and our friendship specifically, so I don't share our story just yet. Instead, I tell her that it all began back home in the north.
I can't help but feel disappointed every time I think about the fact that her and I were in the same region of the country for so many years but not close enough to cross paths.
Bronn and I decided almost simultaneously we had endured enough of life up there wanted to move to the city. We had already started a small business a couple of years prior but only contracting out security guards.
We are and were more than comfortable, financially, both of us doing the bodyguard shit for a few years, him longer than me. When I had enough money and enough of the gawking at my face, I quit and that's how the business began.
It took off like a bullet and surprised Bronn and myself. My reputation preceded me apparently. As soon it started making real money, and we were getting requests almost faster than we could fill them, he quit his security job to work with me full time. Less than three years later we were signing the papers to buy the building we now work out of.
Sansa looks completely impressed and congratulates me on the accomplishment. I mumble a thanks, still trying to get used to her praise. Meanwhile, the whole time this is going on we move like that team again, a well oiled machine.
The internal war I had going on with myself, between making that forbidden second trip back to the car for the grocery bags or let Sansa carry the lighter ones, finally ended with the latter winning out.
We make it up to her apartment in one heavy trip. Between the two of us, I swear we bought half the fucking store. Then, without even thinking about it, I move all her bags to the counter, leaving my own by the door, and we begin putting everything away and organizing her new kitchen.
We don't say much, other than my asking where things go and her instructing me. Even then, we don't always need words, I can follow her lead and she watches what I'm doing, simply nodding and smiling toward the appropriate cupboard.
Everything is neatly put away and she's folding her empty grocery bags way too fucking soon.
I don't want to leave her yet.
We both pause, silently looking at each other. I'm at a loss of what to say but thankfully, Sansa does what she does best and saves me.
Her face lights up like a fucking Christmas tree, as if she's just discovered life on another planet or something equally as important. "Do you want to stay for dinner?"
Maybe she wants to be around me as well. No, no, she said she owed me for the take-out, that's all this is. Right? "You sure? Making me a meal is much more than a few containers of rice and dumplings."
Sansa looks at me and I swear her eyes turn molten. "You're right. Thats why tonight we're instead celebrating my first dinner in my new place. I'll still owe you pizza or something else just as greasy another time." She promises.
I go to argue and tell her she doesn't owe me fucks. Allowing me to be in her presence is damn thanks enough. Somehow, I hold that in. "If you're sure..."
"Of course I am. It would be sad to eat alone during the christening meal of my kitchen." Does she know how her words bloody affect me? One look at that still heated glint in her eyes and I might actually have to go with yes.
"Only if I can help." I compromise.
"Deal!" She beams. "Did you want to put your things away and then come back? What I'm thinking of making may take a while so we can get started as soon as you're ready."
We could grow the fucking plants and raise the animals needed to make the meal and it wouldn't be long enough.
I keep that to myself as well. "Aye. I'll be right back then." I say as I grab my own bags on my way out the door and then head across the floor to my flat.
Once I'm safely behind my own door, I try to control my breathing as I practically throw my groceries, still in the bag, into the fridge. I almost forgot to open the door. Once everything's pretty much where they should be, I go to my wine fridge and grab a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.
In all honesty, I'm not trying to wine and dine Sansa or even impress her. If it happens, that's just an added extra. I've been gifted so many bottles like this over the years, and I do give away some but I forget about them really, they just sit there, chilled and ready to be poured into glasses. I never have a reason to celebrate or anyone to do it with.
And now, I finally do.
I'm back at hers in record time. Sansa left the door ajar so I knock once before slipping inside and closing the door behind me.
Sansa looks over from her position at her kitchen island, tons of ingredients in front of her. "Sandor you shouldn't have." She chastises, looking at the bottle of champagne, but a warm smile tugs at her mouth.
"Too many bottles and not enough reasons to pop them. Where are you flutes?"
She stares at my face trying to read my thoughts through my features alone, she must see something there because she doesn't push and instead grabs the glasses and place them in front of me.
I give her the Veuve and her eyes go wide. "I'm terrible at opening champagne! You do it." She says putting her hands behind her back.
I chuckle, fuck she's cute. "No chance. Your new flat, you do the honors." My fingertips reach out without thought and and tap on her arm, willing her to take the bottle.
The second my skin touches hers, I hear her breath catch in her throat, as it did earlier and my hand freezes before I can snatch it back.
Sansa clears her throat and gives me a mock glare. "Fine." And with that she takes the bubbly from my grasp and starts tearing and untying the seals. She wraps a small towel around the top and holds it away from us both and her face looks like she's about to wrestle an alligator.
I have to hide my grin as I don't want to stop her progress now. A few seconds later the cork finally releases with a loud pop. Sansa squeals and jumps back even though she knew it was coming. Between her trepidation, excitement and the proud look on her face, my laugh finally escapes me. Sansa narrows her eyes at the sound before joining me at her own expense while pouring the cool liquid into two glasses.
I raise my own in a cheers. "To your new flat."
Sansa mimics my action. "And to new neighbors." She counters, holding my gaze while she takes a long sip.
When she pulls the glass away and licks her lips while never breaking eye contact, I finally take my own gulp. I hope it's enough distraction to help stop me from throwing her over the counter or simply ruining my pants.
Sansa breaks the spell between us first. "So, I was thinking we could have Italian. How does that sound?"
She could've offered to feed meland mines and I would be panting like a fucking dog. "Aye, just tell what I can do."
After putting on one of her more "upbeat playlists" as she described it to me, we start making dinner.
Sansa began getting out every utensil in the kitchen I swear and then preheating, greasing and who's knows what else, before joining me at the island so can chop what feels like an entire herb garden.
We don't say much for a while, other than Sansa telling me about what we're making and how she learned to cook it and why carbonara is her favorite. She could've read off the ingredient list of the pasta box and I would've been hanging on to every damn word.
When she leaves me to finish the prep and to start the garlic bread while she browns the pancetta over the stove, her distance affects me in a way I wasn't expecting.
At first I stop what I'm doing and just watch Sansa move her hips to the music, happily lost in her task at hand.
And then then I'm hit with a slap of irritation and confusion.
What the fuck am I doing here? Why does this amazing woman want me in her home, why is she making me dinner and spending, so far, all of her time with me?
Is it a joke, maybe a bet? As soon as the thought crosses my mind I feel sick, I know Sansa would never do that to me.
It doesn't answer any of my questions though, I'm still at a total loss as to why she wants to be in my presence and how she can practically overlook my scars.
I place the knife I had been using down on the counter a little too harshly, making Sansa turn to look at me.
"Are you alright? "She's instantly worried, truly concerned for me. "You didn't cut yourself did you?" She rushes over to me looking like she wants to grab both of my hands in her own, but stops herself.
I take a step back from her and curse myself immediately when her face falls.
"I'm fine, and no I didn't hurt myself." I bite out. I can't calm down, I want to, but I can't.
Before Sansa can ask what's really wrong, the questions rush out of me, sounding more like accusations.
"Why haven't you asked about my face? How can you act like if they're not fucking there?" I growl, pointing to the ruined right side of my head.
To her credit, shock colors her face and I'm glad that I've gotten a real reaction out of her and that she's allowed it. Quickly it turns to heat however, and not the lust filled kind I want to see. No, this is that firey defiance and slight anger she let me glimpse the first night we met.
"It's not my place and it's not my story to tell." She tells me in a voice so eerily calm yet forceful that I couldn't have spoken even if she expected me to. Thankfully, she's not done. "And what would it do for either of us for me to stare?"
Sansa has her hands on her hips, her eyes never leaving my own.
Nothing. The staring, the gawking, it doesn't help anyone, or bring happiness. Sure as fuck doesn't heal my face. All it's done is make me me hard and bitter, to the point that when this beautiful woman treats me like I'm not broken, I can't even let her, without questioning it, probably fucking everything up.
I don't know what she takes my silence as. Cowardice, anger, indifference but knowing her, I'm sure she sees right through me. She probably knows that I'm just lost. No one's ever treated me the way she has or asked such a blunt question.
"Your scars don't bother me. Well, not their physical presence. The only part of them that affects me is the story behind how they came to be. One that you never have to share if you don't want to." Sansa fixes me with a glare that tells me she means that.
"The thought of you suffering, of being in such pain. And the emotional scars that act also left behind, that's what eats me up inside."
"You don't even know me." I whisper.
"I know enough." Those three word carry more weight than anything ever spoken to me.
"I'm a scarred, old, miserable man. I don't understand why you want my company."
Sansa has the nerve to smile, a sweet smirk that calms my nerves. "How old are you?" Of all the things I expected to come out of her mouth in this tense moment, that wasn't one of them.
"Seriously?"
"Yes, you go about your age enough, I might as well find out what it is."
"Thirty-two."
"Sandor, that's not old." She chastises me.
"Old compared to you. What are you, eighteen?" My insecurity over her age seeps out. It's nothing to do with her or her maturity, it's about the fact that the younger she is the less likely it is that she'll want to waste her time on an ancient dog.
"Twenty-one. That's only eleven years. Plus, age is just a number." Gods, she is really young but still wiser than me. I drop it, knowing this won't go anywhere. She's put her foot down.
Sansa keeps going, not discouraged or missing a beat. "You're tall and you, um, work out." She's blushing and stumbling over her words, while she looks over my body. I'm glad I seem to have an effect on her, it's only fair.
"Your eyes and the left side of your face are rugged and handsome. And I'm guessing the right would've matched so I'm allowed to say, You're. Not. Ugly." She says, not mincing her meaning.
"And Sandor." She sighs looking up at me, and I want to slap myself for putting this distance between us. "I don't trust people easily or have that "click" with them as I did with you. Sure you can be an ass, aren't we all sometimes? But you're a good man who I find myself feeling comfortable and safe with, two things I've been missing in my life for a while."
We just stare at each other for a few seconds before I manage to nod and soften my face. Sansa accepts my meek acknowledgement and goes back to the frying pan.
I finish chopping the ingredients she had given me and moved onto grating the cheese, needing the time to decide what I want to say.
I'm not ready to tell her my whole sad life story yet but I want to share something with Sansa, let her know I trust her as well and can never express to her how much her words mean to me.
"When you asked about my family and I snapped, in the lift." I pause, making sure she remembers. When all I hear is the sound of the gas being turned off I continue. "It's because they go hand in hand." I murmur, pointing again to my scars, I can feel Sansa watching me.
I don't need to look at her to know she understands that's all I can manage tonight. She exudes it. Instead I keep my head down, watching the grater.
That's why I almost jump when Sansa's delicate arms wrap around me from behind. Her hands are on my ribs and her cheek is flat against my back. She doesn't say a word, we simply stay that way for a minute or so, and I even move a large hand to cover both of hers.
Sansa gives me a tight squeeze that clenches my heart, and then goes back to finishing our meal. I worry the atmosphere will turn awkward but once she's organized, the meal in progress once again, Sansa starts chirping like none of it happened. Except my back is tingling from her touch.
"Should only be another five minutes until it's all ready. Shall we sit at the island?"
We can sit on the roof. "Aye, fine by me."
"You want to pick the wine?"
I nod and put away the remaining champagne before choosing a bottle from her wine fridge.
When I go to place down the glasses and vino, I see Sansa has laid out plates and cutlery at two stools right next to each other. I was silently thankful she chose the island over her dining table, I didn't want to be that far apart. Maybe she had the same thought.
"Sit, sit." Sansa shoos me toward my seat. "I'll bring the food over." One look at her face and I know there's no use arguing.
Minutes later I take a bite of the most delicious meal I've ever had, and a small groan leaves my mouth unconsciously. Out the corner of my eye, I see Sansa bite her lip. "This is fucking amazing." I commend her.
She finally looks away, blushing. "I'm glad you like it."
"So what do your hundreds of siblings do?" I'm a sponge soaking up every drop of information she'll give me.
Her face always brightens when she speaks of her family. I hope they all know how bloody lucky they are to have her.
"Robb plays football for the Direwolves, he's a striker. Jon is a detective back in Scotland, he made his way through the ranks quickly, he's very passionate. Brandon and Rick are both in school, university and college. As for Arya." Sansa pauses sounding exasperated. "She told us she had to go "find herself" almost a year ago." Sansa uses air quotations and rolls her eyes.
"What the hell does that mean?" I laugh.
"Who knows. We haven't seen her in person since then but she checks in a lot and hasn't been arrested, not much my parents can do." She shakes her head smiling. "Arya is happy though and that's all I want for her. Even if I'm certain she's learning some rare form of karate or other intense fighting techniques."
"She's a fighter then?" Sansa hasn't been exaggerating how different she is from her little sister. No wonder a lot of her stories end with them screaming at each other.
"Yes, she was always getting into scuffles and even brawls in school. She always came out unscathed."
Sansa looks down at her lap, our plates empty, she seems to be deciding to share her next thought with me or not. "Usually she was sticking up for Shireen, I used my words and Arya used her fists."
I turn to face her, staying quiet and letting her continue at her own pace.
"I know what it's like to live with scars. Some of us have only physical, or only emotional and then there's the rest of us who suffer with both."
Her depths may always surprise me.
"And I have watched those I love be treated differently simply because of how they look. That's the other reason I see past your scars."
Taking a deep breath Sansa goes on. "Shireen was badly injured in the crash that took her parents. Everything healed in time, besides her burns."
My stomach drops, I would never wish the worst part of me on anyone.
"They're on her face too but not as much. Her left hand and arm are the worst. She never let the accident, her loss or her permanent reminders of both change who she is. I've never met anyone kinder or more down to earth. Yet, she was forced to deal with stares, bullying, questions and being treated differently overall just because she looks a little different."
Sansa is getting mad, as if reliving those memories. It must be a burden to be so empathetic, I admire her.
"And then I was treated better because of mylooks? It's unfair and cruel and I vowed to never treat anyone based on physical appearance. Ever."
I place my hand over her own one that is resting on the counter. "I'm sorry she went through that, I can say I understand her struggles. But what I would've given to have two wolves in my corner growing up." I try to smile.
It seems to work, Sansa begins breathing more evenly and her face loses some fury. "She always thanks us. I just wish we could've done more, for her and Bran."
I furrow my brow at her. "He's a paraplegic. When he was younger he had a fall and that was it. It changed him, he was so active and outgoing, it's been hard for him to figure out who he's meant to be now."
Gods, what a hand at life this bright girl has been dealt. Yet she sits here, warm and welcoming to me, eager to experience life no matter the curves balls she's experienced.
"Obviously he receives stares and queries too, as well as being treated differently than Rick. I think it's why he's become closed off in a way."
She looks back up from where she had been staring at our hands and meets my eyes. "I'm so fortunate to know them, love them. What happened to them, who they are because of it and how they look doesn't take away from that."
"Thank you. For telling me."
I get a real smile then. "Thank you for being someone I can tell. And sorry for being a bit of a downer."
"Never apologize for telling me about your life."
Sansa's eyes drift to my mouth and I find myself doing the same to hers. We both move at the same time towards each other and -
"You coulda had a bad bitch, non-committal Help you with your career just a littleYou're 'posed to hold me down, but you're holding me backAnd that's the sound of me not calling you back!"
"What the fuck?" I jump and look around for the loud source of music, knowing it's not the iPod.
Sansa covers her face with her hands. "Oh my gosh, I'm going to kill Shireen." She peeks at me through her fingers. "She changed her iMessage tone before I left and wouldn't tell me what it was. I was wondering why she insisted on calling me everyday. Shock factor."
I burst out laughing. The tune was catchy but didn't suit Sansa, well not if she was out in public or forgot to silence her phone before a work meeting at least.
She laughs with me while she crosses the room to grab her phone from the couch.
"Everything alright?"
"Oh yes. She had nothing of sustenance to say and now is sending hundreds of laughing emojis before even hearing about my reaction. Wait until she finds out I wasn't alone." She says as she flicks the button on the side of her iPhone and begins clearing our mess.
"She knows about me?" I'm shocked.
"Of course. My whole family does. I meant to mention earlier, my father will probably be sending you a token of appreciation for helping me last night."
The Starks and their bloody thanks. "Suppose there's no point in saying he doesn't have to?"
"Nope, none." She beams at me.
"Here, let me help."
We rinse everything and stack her dishwasher and then there's no reason for me to stay any longer.
"Guess I should head home." I know my voice sounds disappointed.
"Yeah, it's a long journey." She teases, making me chuckle.
Its déjà vu when Sansa follows me to her door and I turn around almost expecting a hug. Never one to be predictable, she instead places a hand on my right shoulder as she lifts up on her toes and places a kiss to my ruined cheek.
I don't have much feeling left on my scarred side but her kiss made my skin heat and I know her lips brushed the corner of my mouth.
If I hadn't been frozen in shock and pleasure my resolve finally would've caved and I would be devouring Sansa right now.
Pulling back and leaning on her door, Sansa gives me the sexiest grin I've ever seen. "Good night Sandor."
"Good night little bird." My nickname for her gives me my intended reaction, a deep blush.
That night I sleep better than I have in years.