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‘Are you ready?’ Robb asks, grinning over his shoulder at Jon as he laces up his studs.
‘Ready for anything those Stags throw at us,’ Jon says, smiling back. Football is an exception to Jon’s usual reserve and tonight he is buzzing on the high of their first home game of the season. It feels good to be back in the Direwolve’s signature grey and white again.
Robb claps him on the back, laces done. ‘Let’s go, Snow, before the team runs on the field without us.’
Coach is waiting impatiently in the hallway with their team mates, and Jon feels a little thrill seeing them decked out, helmets under arms and grins on their faces. This will be their last season together, though the bittersweet feeling is soon replaced by excitement. With a quick prayer to the gods of football, he follows Robb, the team captain, out onto the field.
They are welcomed by the cheer squad, who wear scanty grey pleated skirts and tight white tops that reveal their hips and midriffs, huge snarling black wolves emblazoned across their chests. Silvery pom poms are a blur in their hands, their cheers drowned out by the screams of the crowd. The home field is large, but the bleachers are filled with teenagers and parents, kitted out in the Direwolve’s grey and white, waving home-made posters and flags.
This- the celebration, the spirit, the feeling of endless and constant belonging- is what makes Jon love to play.
On the other side of the field, the Golden Stags sit with their coach and watch with drawn faces.
Seeing his team mates take seats on the bench, Jon turns to surreptitiously scan the crowd, his eyes seeking out auburn hair and blue eyes. When the first strains of a rowdy rock song start to play, Jon sits down, a little disappointed at not being able to find Sansa in the crowd. His disappointment is short-lived, because as the varsity cheer squad start to swivel their hips and roll their pom poms, Sansa is there with them, swivelling and shaking, stomping her feet.
Jon had always known her to be a good dancer, had sat and watched ballet recitals when he was younger, but Sansa looks like she was born to do this. Her blue eyes shine and throughout the sexy routine he can’t take his eyes off her, the indecently short skirt and tight shirt of her costume doing insane things to his groin.
She and Daenerys, the head cheerleader, execute a series of flips as the song fades, and Jon is struck by the sight of her graceful form leaping through the air, the skirt falling open to reveal her legs and the curve of her butt. He has never seen anything so hot. And then she lands with a flourish and grabs her pom poms and the whole squad is screaming, ‘GO DIREWOLVES!’|
And Jon stands up and claps, his voice a roar along with everyone else’s. This crowd would always stamp their feet and yell at the sight of the Direwolf Cheer Squad. Jon, until this night, had never understood why. As he moves to the field, Sansa and the squad move to the benches. She touches his arm, cheeks aflush and eyes bright, ‘Good luck Jon,’ she says, her hand lingering before she lets him go.
They play spectacularly. They trump the Stags by at least 20 points. Jon, who would fumble in his movements every time he met Sansa’s eye, is ecstatic. Despite his distraction, he managed to help bring the team to victory.
The girls take to the field to cheer, and he is once more mesmerised by Sansa. He watches as her breasts sway and bob, as her hips shake, as her little skirt reveals catatonic amounts of leg. The sweet torture of their routine is over too soon.
The cheerleaders follow the players back inside the stadium to gather their things. Jon watches Sansa ahead of him, admiring her long legs and the sexy, sashaying way she walks. When she slips into the girl’s locker room with the rest of her squad, she looks at him over a slender shoulder and he could swear there is liquid fire in her gaze.
Then she disappears inside, and he and Robb move into the boy’s locker.
‘What a game, bro! I thought nothing would beat last year’s final, but that was magic,’ Robb peels off his sweaty jersey and pulls a clean t-shirt over his head. ‘Gotta go find Talisa. I’m dropping her home, and man, after that cheer routine…’
He waggles his eyebrows at Jon before ducking out, the door swinging shut loudly behind him, not hearing the nervous laugh Jon lets out. If only Robb knew what Jon was thinking about his baby sister.
Jon showers and changes his clothes, still on a high after the win. He is the last to leave the locker room, his team mates all off to proud parents and girlfriends. With a sigh, Jon flicks the light off, grabs his bag and moves out into the night.
Jon has just slung his sports bag over his shoulder when he spots a familiar flash of red from the corner of his eye. Sansa is leaning against the building, one long, lithe leg propped against the wall. She has let her hair down and has a handbag slung over her arm and looks twice as enticing as she did on the field.
‘Hey,’ he says, strange to feel nerves bubbling in his stomach. This is Sansa, he shouldn’t feel nervous. He’s known her since he and Robb still took baths together, can remember her belting out show tunes as Annie in 5th Grade. And yet, the girl who stands before him is not merely Robb’s little sister anymore. He wonders when that changed. Sansa smiles at him with pink, bee-stung lips and Jon imagines running a finger over their fullness to see if they feel as soft as they look. He wonders what it would be like to kiss those lips. Maybe this is how it changed: when Jon started to notice the little, womanly things about her: the lips and bobbing breasts, the soft length of her thighs. Maybe it changed when her laugh, sweet and husky, started to send chills down his spine.
Jon coughs and instead of kissing her like he wants, he hears himself ask, ‘Do you want a ride home?’
And Sansa, sweet bloody Sansa, blushes and nods enthusiastically, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She follows him to the car and Jon opens the door for her, noting the maddening way her thighs part to climb in. As he walks to the driver’s side, he is suddenly very, very glad that this will be a short ride.
‘You played well tonight,’ She says. He glances at her, but she is fiddling with the radio, trying to find a signal. ‘You looked good, um er I mean cheered good, very nice,’ Jon stops, cursing his nerves and awkwardness while Sansa laughs, ‘I mean, you did a great job. Best cheerleader we’ve had.’
She smiles and shoots him a look, lips parting to say something. But then she grins, turns the radio up and exclaims, ‘I love this song!’ And whatever she said is lost and forgotten as she wiggles in the seat and sings along, her high, sweet voice and sexy movements incredibly distracting. They are only a street away from her house when the song changes to one she doesn’t like, thank god. Jon doesn’t know how he could handle more of her.
He pulls up and parks out the front of Sansa’s house, behind Robb’s car. He cuts the engine and a tense quiet descends upon the car. Jon turns to find Sansa’s blue eyes glowing at him through the dark, her long auburn hair falling around her slender shoulders. ‘Thank you for the ride, Jon,’ She says, though she makes no move to leave the car. ‘It’s alright,’ he murmurs, his voice coming out low and husky. She is staring at him intently, her gaze dropping from his eyes to his lips and back again. A storm of butterflies takes over his belly, a nervous anticipation of a moment that is sure to come.
And then she leans forward and presses her lips, soft, warm and dry, against his, and they are kissing. Her hand comes up to cup his cheek and his slide in her hair, so silky against his rough fingers that he nearly groans. They kiss open-mouthed, tongues battling, her teeth nipping his lower lip. They kiss for minutes that seem like hours, their hands tangled in one another’s hair. She tastes sweet, like peppermint and lemon and something that is entirely Sansa, and Jon feels like he could kiss her all night, into the next day, for years and years.
They break apart, panting, faces flushed, inches apart.
Her front door crashes open, and her mother appears on the porch, the light flickering to highlight Mrs Stark in her dressing gown. ‘Sansa? Is that you?’ She calls out, eyes blinking as she tries to see into the dark.
Sansa’s eyes widen and a breathless giggle slips from her lips. She grabs her bag and pushes open the car door, looking at him over her shoulder. Her gaze is shy and yet searing hot, a promise twinkling in her blue eyes.
And then the door is slamming shut and she is running up her front stairs, her grey cheer skirt flouncing against her slender thighs, a flash of copper hair and milky skin in the dark.
Jon watches until she disappears inside with her mother. He drives home grinning like a fool with a huge boner. He can't help but look forward to the promise he saw in Sansa's eyes before she ducked inside.