Chapter 9
9
FARRON
As much as I hated it, that hangover-from-hell training, as everyone, including Coach, now collectively referred to it, had been good for the team. I wasn’t sure if it had been the brutal punishment for the hangover or seeing Tore and me compete against each other, but somehow, it had created a bond between us.
The team, I meant, not Tore and me. We coexisted, maybe with a little less hate than before, but we weren’t friends or anything.
Okay, so I did respect him for not attending that party—which I’d totally expected him to, by the way—and for pushing himself so hard during that training. I still thought he was an arrogant, spoiled jackass, but at least he had his priorities straight.
And he could play. We’d won three more games and held the top spot in our conference, tied with Connor College. We really stood a chance at the championships. Tore had played a huge role in all three victories. As soon as Coach let him out of the box of his position, Tore seized the opportunity and managed to either score or pass to someone else to score.
But our next game was a crucial one. Butler College was a formidable opponent, and playing against them would be a good test of our abilities. We didn’t have the rivalry with them like we did with Connor College, but I still wanted to go all out and beat them. Even if it meant letting Tore play outside his assigned position.
And why the hell was I so focused on him? Our team was bigger than him and me, yet all I kept seeing was his annoying face and that mop of blond hair that stood out even from across the soccer fields. Oh, and his eyes, which were a peculiar shade of blue. Lighter than most people’s and, of course, they stood out because he was so tanned. They were as flashy as the rest of him.
“You good, Cap?” Ethan called from across the locker room, probably because I’d been staring into space.
I forced my features into neutrality. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about some shit.”
As I headed out to the field, cleats crunching on gravel, I shook off the confusing tangle of emotions. The crisp autumn air helped clear my thoughts. I needed to get my head in the game, not waste energy on Tore.
But as we started warm-ups, my eyes kept scanning the sidelines. Where the hell was he? Tore was annoyingly punctual, always one of the first ones out here.
“All right, boys, pair up for passing drills,” Coach called out.
I jogged over to him. “Hey Coach, where’s Tore?”
Coach glanced up from his clipboard. “Oh, he had to head home to Norway for a few days. Some family thing came up.”
I stood there, frozen, as the rest of the team paired up around me. Norway. Fucking Norway. The audacity of it hit me like a punch to the gut. Who hopped on a plane to another continent just like that?
“He left in the middle of the season?” I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice.
“He’ll be back Thursday, so he won’t miss a game. Now focus, please.” Coach’s voice was sharp, snapping me back to reality.
I nodded stiffly and turned away, my jaw clenched. Of course. Tore could apparently jet off whenever he felt like it, consequences be damned. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of anger and something else I couldn’t quite name.
As Coach directed the team through defensive maneuvers, my gaze kept drifting to Tore’s empty spot on the field, irrationally irritated at his absence. Why did I care so much that he wasn’t here? I should be relieved for the break from his insufferable presence. But instead, I felt unsettled. Off-balance.
I threw myself into the drills with extra intensity, desperate to burn off this restless energy. But no matter how hard I pushed myself, I couldn’t shake the nagging awareness of Tore’s absence. Which, obviously, pissed me off even more.
After practice, I stormed back to my dorm to make sense of this roiling mess inside me. Without thinking, I grabbed my phone and dialed Wesley, my best friend from high school, who was attending Ohio State.
His familiar face popped up on the screen, grinning. “Yo, what’s up, man?”
“You won’t believe this shit,” I burst out immediately, not bothering with pleasantries. “That pompous asshole Tore just up and flew to Norway. For a family thing. In the middle of the fucking season!”
Wesley’s eyebrows shot up. “Damn, that’s cold. Coach okay with that?”
“Apparently. It’s like the rules don’t apply to Mr. Fancy Cleats, you know? He does whatever the hell he wants.”
“Sounds like you’re pretty worked up about this,” Wesley observed, his tone cautious. “I mean, I get it, but why does it bother you so much?”
I paused, caught off guard by the question. “He’s part of the team, you know? He can’t bail whenever he feels like it.”
But even as I said the words, I knew there was more to it. If it had been anyone else, Coach would’ve never let him leave, but for Tore, he was making an exception? He was being treated different, and that pissed me off. And underneath that anger was something else, something that felt dangerously close to… disappointment?
“You sure that’s all it is?”
I felt heat creep up my neck. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Wesley held up his hands defensively. “Nothing, man. But you’re always talking about this Tore guy. Seems like you’re letting him live rent-free in your head is all.”
I snorted, flopping down on my bed. The springs creaked in protest. “Yeah, ’cause he’s a spoiled, rich kid who doesn’t know what real life is like.”
My voice trailed off as I struggled to put my feelings into words. Images of Tore flashed through my mind: his perfectly styled hair, those designer clothes that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, the way he effortlessly charmed everyone around him. It made my stomach churn. “I don’t get it, Wes. Every time I see him, it’s like… I don’t know, like my skin’s crawling or something. He walks around campus like he owns the place, and it drives me crazy.”
Wesley raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like he’s really getting under your skin, man.”
“That’s an understatement,” I muttered, absently picking at a loose thread on my worn T-shirt. “I can’t figure out why he bothers me so much. It’s not like he’s openly bragging or anything, but there’s something about him…”
“Maybe it’s because he represents everything you’ve fought against,” Wesley suggested, his voice thoughtful. “You know, the whole silver-spoon thing.”
“You should see the shit he wears. Designer everything, brand-new cleats that cost almost a thousand bucks. Meanwhile, I’m rocking my Walmart specials.”
Wesley nodded, his expression softening. “I hear you. Must be nice to jet off to Norway on a whim. Remember when we thought a trip to Cedar Point was living large?”
We’d saved for months, scraping together every penny from our part-time jobs. And here was Tore, flying to Norway just like that. Did he even realize how privileged he was?
“Exactly,” I said, my voice thick with frustration. “He has no idea what it’s like to struggle. To wonder if there’s enough food in the fridge or if the electricity’s gonna get shut off.”
“Word.”
Why would someone like Tore choose Hawley? There had to be a reason. And despite my best efforts, I found myself curious to know what it was. “Seriously though, Wes, how did he end up at Hawley College when he’s got that kind of money? He’s smart, and with his money and connections, he could buy his way into any school he wants.”
“Maybe he’s looking for the ‘authentic’ college experience,” Wesley suggested, but I could tell he wasn’t buying it either. “Or he’s hiding from something or someone.”
“Or he’s slumming it. You know, playing at being one of us commoners for kicks before he goes back to his castle or whatever.”
“Castle, dude? Are you sure you’re not secretly writing a fantasy novel?”
“Feels like it sometimes with this guy.” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to grasp something solid in all this speculation. “But seriously, it doesn’t add up. There’s gotta be a reason. Nobody would give up a cushy life to come to Hawley without a reason.”
“Have you considered that maybe he’s not as bad as you think? I mean, you haven’t really given him a chance, have you?”
I scoffed. “What’s there to give a chance to? He’s probably never worked a day in his life.”
But even as I said it, doubt filled me. Was it really that black-and-white? Did I know enough about his life to judge?
Wesley was quiet for a moment, weighing his words carefully. “Look, Far, I get where you’re coming from. We both know what it’s like to struggle. But maybe you’re letting your prejudice cloud your judgment a bit?”
His words stung, but I couldn’t entirely dismiss them. Was I being unfair? The thought made me uncomfortable, and I pushed it away. “I don’t know, man.” I sighed, feeling suddenly drained. “I can’t shake this feeling about him. It’s driving me crazy.”
“Dude, you’re obsessed with this guy.”
“Shut up,” I grumbled, but the seed of truth in Wesley’s words took root despite my resistance. Why was I so fixated on Tore? “Anyway,” I said, changing the subject. “Practice was brutal today without him. The team felt off.”
“Sounds like you missed him on the field.”
“Missed kicking his ass during drills, maybe.” My retort lacked conviction. The thought of Tore’s swift footwork and the way he moved with the ball entered my mind unbidden, and I shoved it away.
“Whatever you say,” Wesley replied, amusement clear in his voice. “I gotta go. Football practice starts in half an hour, and I need to get ready. I’ll catch you later, all right? Don’t let Prince Charming get to you too much.”
“Ha ha,” I said dryly, ending the call.
I yanked open the mini fridge and grabbed a water bottle, taking a long gulp before tossing it onto the desk. My reflection in the small mirror caught my eye: dark hair sticking up wildly, eyes blazing with an emotion I couldn’t name.
My mind was whirling, replaying our conversation and everything I knew about Tore. The more I thought about it, the more my dislike for him intensified, mingling with a confusing curiosity that I couldn’t quite shake.
Lying back on my bed, I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts a chaotic mess. Who the hell flew to Norway for a family event? The sheer extravagance of it made my stomach churn. We’d never even been able to afford a vacation out of state. The contrast was stark, infuriating.
But beneath the anger, there was something else. A nagging desire to understand. What was Tore’s game? Why would someone with his kind of money and connections choose Hawley of all places?
I rolled onto my side, punching my pillow in frustration. “Fucking Tore,” I muttered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. But even as I said it, I felt a strange flutter in my chest, a feeling I couldn’t quite place. Why did he have to be so… everything? So annoyingly positive, polite to a fault, and stubborn as hell on the field. And why did my chest tighten whenever he was around?
My mind drifted to the way he moved on the field, all grace and speed. The way his accent made even the most mundane things sound somehow interesting. I groaned, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes.
Tore was thousands of miles away, yet somehow, he was everywhere. In the empty space on the soccer field. In the silence of my dorm room. And above all, in the restless thoughts that I couldn’t seem to shake.