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Two glasses of wine, the second not even quite finished. She’s not drunk. Just starting to relax finally.
He makes her nervous in that ridiculous fluttery way crushes do. He’s completely oblivious to that…she hopes.
She can’t blame her embarrassing admittance on the wine so she’ll blame it on him – please, say he’s the only one who heard it at least - She’ll blame it on his cologne, on the way his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and his exposed forearms are affecting her - damn him - or the way a slight blush had touched his cheeks when Theon had brought up the very inappropriate, non-work-related topic to those who are still here.
Pub after work on a Friday with the usual suspects. Well…almost. He didn’t work here the last time she joined.
“Look who came tonight!” Myranda had exclaimed, making it that much more awkward.
The table at large had looked up and given her a cheerful greeting though so she’d thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She’d not joined them like this in nearly a year, not during the months she was seeing Harry and not in the months since that disastrous relationship had ended. Not since he started working here.
Jon Snow. Her colleague. Her sometimes competitor. Her secret crush.
They’re partners in the department but their exchanges at work tend to run adversarial at times. And yet they intrigue her, draw her in, make her want more of him. Why? She’s never cared for confrontations. But with Jon, something just clicks differently when they bicker.
Myranda had seated her right beside him. (Myranda’s on to her.)
Anyway, Sansa’s blaming him and his intoxicating forearms and smoldering dark eyes for her embarrassing admittance.
“Is that so?” The question (along with his devilish smirk) hangs in the air.
She should sip. She gulps down the last of her wine instead. “Just an observation.”
“Guys don’t like doing that.”
Why had she said it aloud?! Why did he have to hear her?!
She prays the low-lighting won’t make it obvious how madly she’s blushing because now she’s thinking of him giving it a go and proving her wrong. Jon likes being right at the office, sometimes at her expense. She’d gladly allow him to prove her wrong in this case.
He raises an eyebrow, gives her a penetrating look. He’s probably heard of Harry from the others. They all used to work with him, too.
She clears her throat and resolves to look him in those piercing grey eyes. “In my experience, they don’t care for it.”
He scoffs…like he’s offended. “Some of us bloody well do.”
“Is that so?” she replies, letting her own smirk appear.
He grins. It’s stupidly adorable.
And she grins back. Like, you can’t see Jon grinning and not want to grin back. Probably because he doesn’t do it that often.
With the grins, she doesn’t expect him to turn so soft on her with his next words. “He must’ve been such a fool.”
Warmth floods her face, her chest. “Yeah, he was.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m well over him.”
“Is that so?”
She laughs and nods. The movement draws them closer together, shoulder to shoulder. Their heads lightly touch. She looks up after they do and…oh.
He licks his lips, his eyes drifting down to her own mouth before remembering where they are and who they’re with. He finishes his drink though with that devilish smirk still lingering.
“Someday, maybe someone will change your opinion on the matter of whether or not guys like doing that, Sansa.”
“Someday, I hope so, Jon.”