The late June morning dawned bright and sunny at Camp Winterfell…which admittedly was an unusual name for a summer camp.
Samwell Tarly scratched irritably at his forearms as he hurried back to his cabin from the mess hall. He’d managed to get poison ivy again. He just knew it. He rolled his eyes and made a mental note to stop by the camp clinic ASAP…and to not scratch his balls today.
He could almost hear Gilly chanting in his ear, ‘Leaves of three, leave them be,’ but he’d always had horrid luck when it came to the Great Outdoors. He wondered again if his father had secretly been hoping to kill him by talking him into working as a summer camp counselor.
He only had a few minutes before his campers, five ten-year-old boys, would be expecting Counselor Sam down by the lake where they’d meet up with Counselor Gilly and her five female campers for a boat safety lesson. Granted, Sam didn’t know anything about boats but he didn’t want to let the kids down by being late. And he definitely didn’t want to let Gilly down.
Gilly seemed to know everything about the outdoors. He was lucky she was assigned as his partner this year…and he would’ve taken a bath in poison ivy to be with Gilly. Luckily, he didn’t need to. For reasons he couldn't quite fathom, Gilly seemed to like him as much as he liked her.
Pyp had called this meeting of Camp Counselor Cabin #4 (or C4 for short) but once the three seventeen-year-olds sat down together minus their fourth member he looked over at Sam as though this was all his idea and asked, “So, what are we going to do?”
“What are we going to do about what?” Sam asked as he tried to ignore that annoying itch that was begging to be scratched.
“About Jon and his massive crush on the pretty red head from Cabin #3.”
“Sansa?” Sam asked. He knew all about Sansa of course. Jon may have mentioned her once or twice.
More than a hundred times, Sam thought as his hand crept down to make an adjustment. He paused just in time. Whoa…close one.
Jon had been a bit of a mess since he’d been partnered up with her on their first day.
Objectively, Sam could admit Jon was a good-looking guy, the kind of guy one wouldn’t expect to have any trouble getting girls. But it turned out he was somewhat shy when it came to the fairer sex.
Okay, awkward. Maybe that’s why we get on so well.
“Yeah, Sansa,” Grenn groaned. “That’s all I hear all bloody night when he thinks I’m asleep in the top bunk. ‘Sansa…unnn…oh, Sansa…gods, I want you, Sansa…Sansa, I love you…I wanna eat your sweet pussy and fuck your tits till I cum all over them.'”
“He does not say that!” Sam protested. “He might’ve moaned a time or two and said her name once or…”
“Every fucking night. He beats off every fucking night when he thinks we’re asleep saying her name, Sam. He needs to get laid.”
“Well, I don’t see how the three of us are going to remedy that for him.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. The counselors’ dance is coming up. The kiddos will all be tucked into their bunks and we’ll have a night of debauchery at last,” Pyp said.
“Debauchery? Thorne and Mordane will still be there to chaperone us,” Sam argued. “We’re all still kids too as far as they’re concerned.”
“They’ll be there but that girl Tyene is planning on slipping a little something in their coffee to send them off to Snooze Land extra early.”
“That’s hardly ethical,” Sam complained. His friends just laughed at him though. “So, how’s this supposed to prompt Jon to make a move on Sansa?”
“You’re the brains of this outfit. We figured you’d come up with something.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I think they’ll figure it out on their own and I need to go see the nurse.”
“I’m starved, Marg,” Yara Greyjoy huffed from where she sat on the top bunk that evening before dinner.
“Yeah, I don’t want to arrive too late. Sam’s saving me a seat,” Gilly added.
“Would you both be patient?” Margaery said as she peered out the cabin’s window.
She watched Sansa marching off towards the girls’ bathhouse with her sunny yellow towel and bottle of citrus body wash and gave a satisfied nod. Sansa had been held up from showering with the other girls when one of her campers got sick at her stomach earlier which allowed for this opportunity for the three other girls to speak privately.
“Okay. We’ve got about fifteen minutes. How are we going to get Sansa and Jon to hook up?”
Yara cackled. “Princess Sansa and Precious Snowflake? Oh, Marg…that’s a good one.” Margaery scowled at her. “Look, Sansa’s a sweetie but she’s got a lockdown on that V-card, I think. She’s not the sort to give it up at summer camp.”
“I think you’re wrong. Just because she’s not as experienced as you or me…”
“Or as willing to explore,” Yara said, her words laced with innuendo as their eyes met.
“Well, yes,” Margaery concurred as Gilly pretended to be absorbed by her quilt. “Still…you’ve both heard her at night, right?”
“You mean the rustling sheets and whispered words ‘Jon…oh, Jon…please, Jon’? Yeah, we’ve heard her,” Yara said. “She should get a vibrator. Probably give her more satisfaction than that guy will. He’s never making a move.”
“Sam says he really likes her,” Gilly chimed in. “He’s just shy.”
“Gilly, he’s a nice guy but, when it comes to girls, you gotta wonder…does he even know where to put it?”
“I’m sure Jon knows where to put it,” Gilly huffed. “If Sam can figure it out, I’m sure he can,” she muttered under her breath.
“But…the way he stammers and flexes his hand whenever Sansa just talks to him, he’d probably faint if he got to touch her tits…or cry if he saw her pussy,” Yara laughed.
“He is not that bad! I hope he’s not that bad,” Margaery argued. Yara scoffed. “What these two need is a little push.”
“Or a shove,” Yara said.
“Into a dark, confined space where they can’t escape,” Gilly joked. The other two girls looked up at her with matching smirks. “I was just kidding.”
“No…no…I like the way you think,” Margaery said. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
“Well, we can’t exactly lock them in the Great Outdoors,” Gilly huffed, hoping the pair of them would see reason.
“You said Tyene had plans for Mordane and Thorne, right?” Yara asked Margaery.
“Okay…I’ve got an idea.”
The three girls huddled together to discuss until their cabin mate returned from her shower, fresh as a daisy and completely ignorant of their plotting.
“Mmm…” she hummed.
“Ah, fuck…Sansa. Baby, I’m gonna cum.”
She hummed around his dick again, gripped his hips harder and kept slurping away at his cock like it was her favorite variety of popsicle.
Jon’s eyes closed and his head fell back as his balls tightened up. He came with a ragged breath staring down into those blue eyes and…
“Ah, fuck,” he sighed as he opened his eyes to see the last of his baby batter spurting across his belly, his hand still manning the pump.
He groaned as he reached for his navy-blue Camp Winterfell t-shirt he’d tossed to the foot of the bed when he climbed in his bunk. It was due for a wash anyway.
“Was it good for you, asshole?” Grenn asked from above him.
“Fuck off,” he said mildly. “You do it, too. At least, I don’t fart all night like you.”
“They served chili. What did you expect?”
Jon chuckled and wiped himself dry beneath the sheets before yanking his boxers back up. He laced his fingers behind his head as he stared up at the slats above.
“Do you think she likes me at all?”
“I’m pretty sure she does, idiot. Just ask her out.”
“How do you know that? And where am I supposed to take her? We’re in the middle of nowhere with no wheels available.”
“Take her where everybody takes their girl at camp. Down by the lake, out in the woods, at the boat house, in the cabin if you can get away with it. Just take her.”
“What if she doesn’t want to be taken?”
“Gods, you need help,” Grenn grumbled.
Grenn just didn’t get it though. Sansa Stark was like…perfect. She was gorgeous and somehow made their lame camp counselor t-shirt and khaki shorts look amazing. She was bright and funny and always seemed to know what to say. She was always polished and polite and…
Girls like Sansa were never into guys like him. At least, he didn’t think so. He honestly couldn’t say he’d ever actually talked to a girl like Sansa before. Maybe there weren’t any girls like Sansa at his school.
But ever since the first day when she’d been assigned as his co-ed camp counselor, she’d talked to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sure, she had her ideas about things. She could come off a bit bossy at times but Jon kind of liked it. Okay, he really liked it.
Besides, he might possess some leadership skills (which was partly why he’d taken this summer job) but Sansa was a planner. She knew how to get things done and how to get people to work together. She could make bitter enemies sing ‘Kumbaya’ together with a little effort. Even crabby old Mr. Thorne liked Sansa and that guy didn’t seem to like anyone.
Why the fuck is he working with children anyway?
Jon wanted to ask her out. More specifically, he wanted to ask her if she’d be willing to make out with him and be his girlfriend. Scratch that. He wanted to ask her to be his girlfriend and then make out and then take her out once they got back home. They attended different high schools but lived in the same town. He had a license and a car. No biggie, right?
Except for one biggie. Jon Snow was shy when it came to asking girls out…painfully shy.
Awkward as fuck might be more accurate.
He could talk to girls but he’d get flustered around the ones he really liked and he’d never liked any girl half so well as he liked Sansa. His last girlfriend, Ygritte, had done all the asking and taken the lead throughout their short-lived romance. But Sansa wasn’t Ygritte. She was the kind of girl that got asked out…constantly. Not the other way around. If he wanted a shot with Sansa, he’d have to nut up and make a move.
“Grenn?” he said in the darkness.
Maybe his friend could give him some more ideas about how to proceed.
He was greeted by snores.
Maybe he’d have to ask Sam.
“Good morning, Jon!” Sansa called out cheerily the next morning as she swept a few loose strands of red hair behind her ear. A few always seemed to escape her braid.
“Uh, hi…Sansa,” Jon replied.
Her stomach flipped as he gave her a fleeting smile before quickly turning back to his group of campers.
Today, the kids were going to be showing off their swimming skills at the lake and everyone had their swimsuits on and towels and sunscreen in hand.
And Jon was sporting his light blue, regulation Camp Winterfell trunks along with his white camp counselor tee today. It really wasn’t fair how good he looked in those trunks, Sansa decided as she composed a rhyme.
Gods of Ass-guard, hear my plea,
Give that sweet man's ass to me.
His curly hair was pulled back today in a man-bun and he was wearing sunglasses. Despite the heat, he’d been wearing a beard the past few weeks which made him look even more grown up. And, Sansa already knew she’d be seeing his broad, muscular shoulders and abs as soon as they got in the water. Her cheeks grew warm at the thought.
At least I can blame the humidity for that.
She was wearing the regulation matching ladies’ version of the camp suit under her t-shirt and shorts. It was a light blue, athletic-style one-piece. She despised it. She’d rather wear something a bit sexier. She wasn’t ordinately the type of girl to flaunt her figure just to get a boy’s attention but she would for Jon. She wished the suit was a darker color. She was pale and thought a darker shade might be more flattering.
They fell in step together, leading their campers to the water’s edge, and Sansa chatted away. She didn’t know what else to do. He made her nervous but he seemed oblivious to that. She couldn’t seem to shut up around him. She hoped he didn’t find her annoying.
No, he wouldn't.
Jon was one of the sweetest guys she'd ever met. He was funny and smart and thoughtful. Which was probably why she was crazy about him on top of him being gorgeous.
“So, the camp counselors’ dance is coming up,” she mentioned casually. Wow…so subtle, Sansa, she cringed and rolled her eyes at herself.
“Um, yeah,” Jon said, staring straight ahead and flexing his hands. “I hate dancing.”
Her stomach went from flopping nervously with giddy anticipation to sinking like a lead balloon to somewhere in the vicinity of her knees.
“If you could see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking,” Margaery had teased her last night after dinner as she pretended to fan herself and swoon.
“How am I supposed to see the way he looks at me when I’m not looking if I’m not looking?” she’d replied irritably.
But now it seemed that Margaery was completely full of shit and he wasn’t interested in being anything more than friends.
Or maybe he’s just being friendly because we’re forced to work together and wouldn’t consider me a friend at all.
She bit down on her lip to keep from letting that thought take hold. She might just cry if she did.
Just then though she heard a muffled curse and he slowed down, letting the campers pass by them. He was staring at his feet until the last two kids, Edric and Shireen, passed them before he glanced back up at her with those soulful dark eyes that burned with an intensity that made her heart pound and her loins clench up in longing.
“That came out wrong. What I mean is, uh…I really can’t dance all that well but I’m going.” He scratched at the back of his neck which was really cuter than she would’ve ever thought such a thing could be. “It should be interesting, right?” he continued in a voice that shot up an octave at that last word. He grimaced and asked, “So…are you going?”
Her stomach was back to doing somersaults. And she was smiling again.
“Yeah…I guess I will,” she said, very nonchalantly. That’s better, girl.
“Well…ahem…if you’re going and I’m going…”
“Sansa! Jon! Lyanna just punched me!” Little Walder Frey wailed.
“You were asking for it, you little turd!” the fierce little Mormont girl shouted.
Sansa sighed and turned around to get to the bottom of things with Jon’s support.
Once that was sorted out, they continued down the trail towards the lake. Except Jon didn’t say anything else about the counselors’ dance. She could say something but now her stomach was assaulted by butterflies and she didn’t seem to know what to say. She chewed at her bottom lip and kept quiet the rest of the way.
She had dropped a hint about the dance. And he’d made an asinine response about how he hated dancing like the idiot he was. He wasn’t much of a dancer but he’d seen the way her face fell and knew he needed to fix things lest she get the wrong impression.
Please, darling…don’t the wrong impression. How could a girl like you even think I wouldn’t be interested in going with you?
Unfortunately, as he’d been attempting to recover from his blunder and ask her to the dance, that little Frey twerp had got himself punched. Jon would bet his last groat he deserved it. Honestly, Jon would’ve liked to punch him in that moment, especially as he had lost his nerve again after the interruption.
Maybe I should just punch myself, he thought despairingly.
It wasn’t just his shyness hampering things here though. The thing was, Sansa was not only beautiful and smart but also way out of his league.
He’d already figured out that Sansa wasn’t working at Camp Winterfell because she needed the money. This was the sort of thing girls like Sansa did mostly because it looked good on a college application.
He’d heard from a couple of the guys at camp that attended Winterfell High with her that she was on the cheer squad and very popular. He’d also heard that she’d dated a couple of rich douchebags last year, neither of them had been fit to lick her boots but that was beside the point. And the Starks had lived in Winterfell for ages. They were what families like the Tyrells called old money. People like Jon just called them posh.
He attended Wintertown High and was just an average high school student. Okay, he was on the soccer team and ran track but he also had to work year-round to help pay for his car insurance and his car (which incidentally was nothing to brag about.) His mother was single and his father was not part of their lives. He worked at the camp for the money and because it looked good on a college application. Because he wasn’t likely to attend college without a scholarship and that required having as much stuff on his application as possible to look good.
To put it bluntly, Jon Snow was a bastard kid that lived on the poor side of town and Sansa Stark was a princess who deserved nothing less than a prince.
They arrived at the lake and the kids unceremoniously dumped their towels on the water’s edge before jumping in. They were all competent swimmers by this point. At least, they were competent enough for Jon to torture himself by watching Sansa shimmy out of her shorts and pull off her camp tee revealing her swimsuit-clad curves to his hungry eyes for a minute or two without anyone drowning.
Gods, why did she have to be so gorgeous…and nice? And why did he hear Eric Carmen singing in his head now?
One look at you and I fantasize,
She caught him staring and smiled, a warm and inviting smile. She had one hand wrapped around her braid. He dreamed of tugging on that rope of red hair as she stared up at him. She did that thing where she’d nibble at her bottom lip, teasing him as he dreamed of nibbling on it, too. He wanted to taste that lip. He wanted to taste all of her. His cock twitched at that thought and he recalled he was still standing there in swim trunks, an awkward time to get boner.
He shook his head to clear it of impure thoughts and blew his whistle to get the kids’ attention.
“We’ll do the timed laps first,” he shouted but then glanced her way again. “That is, um…if you think that’d work, Sansa.”
“Sure, Jon,” she said…except she looked a little disappointed now.
He couldn’t blame her. He was disappointed in himself.
“I think she likes him,” Shireen was whispering in Lyanna’s ear when Edric Storm swam up to the girls.
“So?” Lyanna shrugged at her as she continued to tread water.
“Who likes who?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Lyanna said, shooting him a look.
Edric back pedaled and moved closer to Shireen. She was sweet…and not prone to hitting boys when she got in a temper like the Mormont girl. Of course, Walder had deserved it. That little shit deserved to be punched more often honestly.
“Who likes who?” he asked Shireen.
“Counselor Jon. I think Sansa likes him.”
“Of course, she does. Who wouldn’t like Jon?”
“No, I mean she likes him, likes him.”
“He’s cute and funny and she gets all chatty and giggly around him. Just look at them,” she said, discreetly pointing to the pair of them on the dock as Hot Pie lined up to attempt another dive for his swimming test.
Sure, Sansa was looking at bit dreamy-eyed as Jon demonstrated the proper technique and dove into the lake before popping back up with a grin. Edric wished he could dive that well. And the way Sansa’s eyes were glued on Jon as he climbed back onto the dock, Edric thought maybe she wished she could, too.
Hot Pie did a belly flop…as expected, soaking everyone for miles around. Well, in the immediate area. Sansa covered her mouth to kindly hide her snicker as Jon helped poor Hot Pie back up onto the dock, swearing he’d get it right if he kept practicing.
“I dunno. I think he might fancy her a bit though,” Edric said as Sansa took a turn trying to help Hot Pie get it right.
Jon was staring at her in her swimsuit. He reminded Edric of one of those cartoon wolves when they saw a pretty girl and he wondered if he was about to start howling and whistling. But then he looked away like he was embarrassed. Maybe she just had something on her suit.
But then Sansa and Hot Pie started laughing and did a canon ball together. Edric spluttered with the splash but didn’t miss the dopey look on Jon’s face as he kept staring at Sansa when she climbed back out. Jon handed Sansa her towel as Hot Pie swam off. He wrapped it around her shoulders and she looked up at him and they both kind of stared at each other…for way too long. Suddenly, Edric felt kind of uncomfortable. He could hear Shireen’s sighing before Jon blew his whistle for everyone to come back to the dock.
“Okay…you might have a point,” he admitted as they headed that way.
By far, the worst camp counselor at Camp Winterfell was Joffrey Baratheon. He was a stuck-up prick, a total shit. Jon felt sorry for the five boys assigned to him from the bottom of his heart, including Joffrey’s own little brother who was a sweet kid and might’ve had a good summer if his brother wasn’t there.
The other counselors did their best to make sure Joffrey’s cruel streak wasn’t visited upon the children and, despite his rich family and infamously horrible mother, Thorne and Mordane would only tolerate so much from him.
Thankfully, Margaery Tyrell was his assigned partner and seemed to bring out the best in Joffrey…the best there was anyway. She was good with the boys and girls of their group and little Tommen especially seemed love struck by her.
Speaking of love struck, Jon didn’t think Joffrey could love anyone so well as he loved himself but he did spend far too much time gazing at Sansa…which incidentally drove Jon mad. He hated the way that smug ass looked at her, like she was some possession of his.
Joffrey also happened to be one of the aforementioned-douchebags she’d dated in the past. Much to Jon’s relief, it was clear she wasn’t mourning the end of their relationship as she did her best to avoid him. Just thinking about that prick getting to kiss her was enough to make Jon feel sick at his stomach.
But Old Joffrey, the idiot, had spread rumors around camp early on that Sansa Stark was a frigid bitch and not worth wasting time on since her knees were surgically attached. If he thought that’d be a deterrent to a guy (a decent one who truly liked her for herself), he was mistaken.
Overall, Jon just avoided Joffrey as much as possible. That is, until he couldn’t one evening...
Every evening before dinner the male counselors had their showers before going to help in the mess hall while the female counselors wrangled the kids to wash hands and such. Then, the girls would get their turn to shower as the guys brought the kids to the mess hall and worked on dinner. The kids all had their showers after dinner before turning in for the night.
Jon had just finished and was toweling off in the changing room and wondering if he’d ever find his balls and ask Sansa out when Pyp joined him, looking pissed and a bit uncertain about something.
“What’s the matter with you?” Jon asked. “See another ginormous roach?”
The bathhouses weren’t exactly the newest facilities and not a place one wanted to hang out in for long.
Pyp eyed him warily and shook his head. “No, it’s nothing.”
Jon looked around to make sure the coast was clear before prodding further. “Come on…it’s not nothing.”
Pyp was clearly lying. He was also on the small side compared to some of the guys. And, he was Jon’s friend. If someone had been messing with him, Jon wanted to know about it.
“Joffrey’s just a prick, you know?” Pyp said as he pulled his shorts on.
“Yeah, I know,” Jon sighed as he yanked on his shirt and started towel-drying his hair. “Did he do something in there?”
“No…not to me,” Pyp snarled but still looked upset. “I’m not a rat,” Pyp said next.
Jon looked at him in confusion. “Who said you were?”
“Well…nobody. They just said not to be a rat.”
“Joffrey and some of the other guys.”
“Pyp…what are you on about?” Jon asked.
A few minutes later, Jon stalked out of the boys’ bathhouse towards the girls’ just down the trail with steam coming out of his ears.
The camp leaders’ cabins sat between the two and Jon found a spot on Thorne’s stoop where he could to watch the comings and goings. He could just knock on the door and tell Thorne what he’d heard but that sour old man probably wouldn’t believe him. And just because Joffrey had been bragging in the showers didn’t mean he wasn’t full of shit and just running his mouth.
Several of the female counselors started filtering towards their bathhouse now that most of the guys had returned to take the kids off their hands.
He smiled to see Sansa coming his way with her towel and toiletries. They’d been hiking all morning and then helping the kids paint this afternoon. She was filthy, covered in paint and her braid had come undone. And, she looked like a daydream in Jon’s opinion.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a smile that made his stomach flip and flop like a fish out of water.
“I’m just…I’m waiting for someone,” he stammered. Gods be damned, he thought as that same disappointed look came across her face. That sounded like I’m waiting for another girl. “I’m waiting for a guy.” Her eyebrows shot up then. “To talk.”
Actually, I’m waiting to see if Pyp’s right. If he is, I might do the talking with my fists.
“Oh…okay, Jon,” she said and started to walk again.
Would you want to go to the dance with me? he thought.
But before he could form the words, he saw Joffrey and a couple of other guys laughing together as they crept through the woods, circling around towards the back of the girls’ bathhouse.
“Enjoy your shower,” he said distractedly as he was busy watching Joffrey like a hawk.
He turned back towards her to say something better but she’d already walked away. He could tell she was shaking her head.
Sometimes, Jon wished he could kick his own ass.
“Boys are stupid,” she hissed to Yara as they started undressing in the changing room.
“No arguments here,” Yara said. “What’d he do?”
“It’s more like what he won’t do,” she grumbled as she pulled her shirt off.
“Would you please stop calling him that?”
“Sansa…I think if you’re interested, you’re going to have to ask him. He’s sweet but obviously completely inept.”
“Or he just doesn’t really like me,” she murmured as she slid her shorts off and removed her bra and panties, placing everything in a neat pile.
“He likes you,” Yara said. “I’d bet money on that. Come on.”
Sansa wrapped up in her bathrobe, grabbed her towel and followed Yara to where the shower stalls were with her flip flops on. She might swim in the lake but there was no way her bare feet were ever touching the floor in here.
It was busy and Sansa had to go all the way to the end to find an empty stall. It was against the outer wall. It had a bit more room than the others at least.
She hung up her towel and robe and turned on the water, letting the freezing cold stream get warm before she ducked under it.
Her nipples hardened from the cold but as the water warmed up she sighed. She relaxed her shoulders, hoping some of her tension and frustration would ease.
There had been three separate occasions today alone that she thought Jon was on the verge of maybe asking her to the dance and then he didn’t.
Woman up and ask him yourself then, like Yara said.
She could do that…but she really wanted him to ask her. It’d be nice to be asked out by a sweet guy like Jon for a change. Plus, she still worried that he wasn’t really all that interested in her. She’d had such rotten luck dating at school. And unfortunately, she was getting a daily reminder of her former poor choices in Joffrey being here all summer with her. If she had thought Joffrey was so great at one time, how could she trust her judgment about whether or not Jon was actually into her?
Sansa groaned irritably and started soaping up. The sweet scent of her citrusy body wash and the slick glide of her hands over her body under the warm water always improved her mood. But there was something that might improve her mood a bit more. She usually did that in her bunk. No one would see her here though.
Don’t do it. If you do, you know who you’ll be thinking of. Don’t stand here fantasizing about a boy who’s never going to ask you out and torture yourself this way. You can masturbate just fine without him.
Except that just really wasn’t how it worked for her. Thinking of Jon’s smile, his dark eyes, his strong hands had all become part of the process by now. Some fuzzy, faceless image just couldn’t cut it and there wasn’t anyone else for her.
She surrendered to the inevitable and her hands slid down from her face to her breasts, cupping them as she began to bite her lips and dream of his firm, full lips on her. She tweaked and teased her nipples, picturing his mouth there and stifled a moan as heat began to coil low in her belly.
Gods, she wanted him so badly. She wanted that sweet guy to be her guy.
Screw it. I’ll just ask him to the dance. Gilly says he’s shy. Swallow your pride and ask him, Sansa. The worst he can say is no, right?
She didn’t even want to consider what she’d do if he said no.
She turned to rinse her face again as her hands dipped lower. She looked down at the red curls that covered her sex and rubbed her legs together in anticipation. She wanted that floating, falling release, however temporary, of her muscles clenching up and her pulse thrummed while she dreamt of Jon.
Distracted by that thought, she accidently dropped the soap. When she went to pick it up, she noticed a crack in the outer wall she’d never seen before…and a green eye peering in at her.
“Holy shit!” Sansa screamed.
“Oh, yes,” Joffrey laughed quietly. “The gods are smiling on me today. It’s Sansa,” he said over his shoulder. The two guys with him were practically panting as they asked to have a look at her. “Fuck no,” he scoffed. “You can look at the next girl. That uptight little bitch didn’t even let me get to second base with her when we were dating even after I bought her flowers and took her to an expensive sit-down dinner. ‘I’m not ready for that, Joffrey,’ she said.” He thought he did a fair imitation of her sing-song voice and unzipped his shorts. “You guys might want to head back,” he said as he reached into his boxers. “I plan on enjoying this thoroughly.”
He pressed his eye back up against the crack in the wooden boards he’d discovered a few weeks ago when he was snooping around the back of the girls’ bathhouse. Three nights in a row after that, he’d snuck down after lights out and taken a pocket knife to scrape at the grout around the old, dilapidated tiles in the last shower stall for about thirty minutes until he had a decent sized peephole made. He’d covered the outer part with a flat stone that fit well. So far, it’d not been discovered.
He started stroking himself as he stared at her shapely ass. He’d like to spank that ass…hard.
A paddle…or a switch. I’d like to make her cry out and beg for me to stop as her ass got redder and redder. Then, I’d make her…
She turned and Joffrey couldn’t form the rest of his thought. Her hands were sliding up and down her perfect body. He groaned and was close.
But then she disappeared for a second. Next thing he knew, she was looking right at him…or at least his eyeball. She screamed and his brain went into panic mode.
Before Joffrey could flee back to the mess hall and avoid being accused of anything though, he was being roughly jerked back by the arm.
His friends had disappeared and that self-righteous jerk Jon Snow was standing there. And at the moment, he appeared to be ready to commit murder.
Joffrey quailed before him and raised his hands in front of his face.
Sansa was shaking like a leaf as she threw on her bathrobe. Five other girls, including Yara, had abandoned their showers to see what had caused her to scream. She gestured towards the small hole and tried to explain that there’d been an eyeball there a second ago.
“A boy?” Yara asked. Sansa nodded numbly and Yara tugged at her hand. “One of you, go get Mordane,” Yara barked.
They raced outside and around the side of the building to find Jon beating the living daylights out of Joffrey. Jon was pummeling him with a series of blows and Joffrey fell to the ground.
Joffrey, who had his shorts shoved part of the way down his hips. Joffrey, who had green eyes.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Mrs. Mordane screeched as she came upon the girls standing around as Jon knelt, straddling Joffrey’s chest as he kept hitting him.
Oh, shit…he might kill him.
“Jon,” Sansa said. He didn’t stop. “Jon!” she said more sharply.
He raised his head and saw her. Sansa took a step back. She’d never witnessed such raw and angry passion in person’s eyes. It frightened her. It was especially shocking on the face of someone like Jon.
But, almost immediately as he looked at her, the fury seemed to diminish by half. The fist that was pulled back for another punch dropped to his side. He stared down with a bewildered expression. Blood covered Joffrey’s face and he was sobbing like a baby. Jon looked shaky, like he didn’t know what had come over him.
“We do not tolerate fighting here, Mr. Snow!” Mrs. Mordane yelled as Jon stood.
“He attacked me!” Joffrey wailed. “I was walking in the woods and the bastard attacked me for no reason at all. I’m going to call my mother! We’ll sue this camp for allowing this animal to work here!”
Mr. Thorne had been drawn by the commotion at this point and he grabbed Jon roughly by the arm. “What on Seven Hells is the matter with you?!” Jon seemed unable to speak. He just glared at Thorne sullenly. “You’ll wait in my office while we call your parents…your mother to come get you. You’re no longer welcome here at…”
“Wait!” Sansa shouted. “You’re not even giving him a chance to explain!” She cinched her robe more tightly around her waist self-consciously. “Joffrey was peeping on me in the shower,” she said. She was trembling as she said it. It was not a pleasant thing to think about or talk about. She was grateful when Yara put an arm around her. “I believe Jon caught him doing it.”
“It wasn’t me!” Joffrey denied. “It was probably Snow looking at you!”
It was bad enough knowing Joffrey had looked at her. He was not going to call her a liar and try and accuse Jon.
“It was you! I know what I saw! Jon doesn’t have green eyes! I know it was you, you pervert!”
“Do you have anything to say, Mr. Snow?” Mrs. Mordane asked more calmly.
Jon was looking at her and Sansa gave him a soft smile. He seemed to shake himself out of whatever was holding him back from speaking.
“Sansa’s right, ma’am. I…I heard a rumor about what he was doing when the girls were showering earlier. Joffrey’s not helped with dinner preparations in the mess hall for over a week. You can ask the other guys if you don’t believe me. I wanted to catch him at it to be sure but…when I saw him…and what he was doing…I snapped.” He ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Sansa. I should’ve warned you about what I’d heard when I saw you earlier.”
“It’s okay, Jon,” she said. She was completely skeeved out at the thoughts of Joffrey watching her or any of the girls but she didn’t blame Jon for that. “At least, you caught him before he could run away.”
Mr. Thorne looked livid but grabbed Joffrey by the arm now instead. “Come on then, Baratheon. Guess we’ll be calling your mother now. Snow…you’re not completely off the hook here but I’ll deal with you later. Go get your hands looked at by the nurse,” he added.
“Yes, sir,” Jon said dejectedly as he started to walk away.
Sansa slipped away from the others and followed him. “Hey, Jon…thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” he repeated, shaking his head. “It makes me furious to think he got to see you without your permission.”
“You’re not an idiot. You’re one of the smartest guys I know. And don’t beat yourself up about that,” she said gently. “I mean, my skin is crawling just thinking about it but it’s over. He won’t get to do it again.”
She took his hand, careful of his battered knuckles, and then kissed him lightly on the cheek. She heard him sigh and he leaned towards her.
“Sansa…I really like you. I’m glad you’re my partner here at camp and I’ve got to know you. Would you want to go to the counselors’ dance with me? Assuming Thorne will still let me go…or even stay here?”
“Yes, Jon. I’ll go with you to the dance. And if they won’t let you go, I’ll go with you somewhere else.”
His smile was sweet then, like him…shy and a bit reticent but clearly happy. She was happy, too.