Chapter 13
13
FARRON
The locker room was the usual craziness of motion and noise, but amid the chaos, my gaze drifted to Tore. He sat across from me, lacing his cleats with meticulous care, the kind that came from being raised with standards higher than the rafters above us. The weight of our last encounter hung between us like a heavy fog, thick and unspoken.
We’d barely exchanged a word since yesterday evening. Getting up this morning had been a silent storm of avoidance and awkwardness, interspersed with only the most necessary communications. When Coach had spotted us coming down for breakfast, his look of disappointment had hit hard. He was counting on me to fix this, and instead, I’d only made things worse.
The locker room buzzed with pre-game energy, but all I could focus on was Tore across the room. My palms were sweaty, and it wasn’t from the upcoming game against Butler College. Games like that only fired me up.
No, it was him sitting there. His golden hair caught the fluorescent light as he put on his jersey, muscles flexing, and my stomach did a weird flip.
In the mirror’s reflection, I watched him stand, muscles moving under the fabric of his jersey in a way that shouldn’t have been distracting. But it was. Everything about him was distracting, and I hated it.
Shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Getting each other off was supposed to solve this, not make it worse. I tore my eyes away.
“Everyone ready?” I called out, forcing myself into captain mode. “Let’s show Butler what we’re made of!”
A chorus of cheers went up. I risked a glance at Tore. He met my eyes for a split second before looking away, a flush creeping up his neck. Dammit. This awkwardness between us was going to fuck up our game.
“All right, Hawks, hands in!” I said, gathering the team. We huddled up, and I found myself right next to Tore. The heat of his body radiated against my side. I swallowed hard, trying to focus. “ONE TEAM!”
“ONE DREAM!” everyone else shouted. As we broke apart, Tore’s hand brushed against mine. A jolt went through me. What the hell was happening to me?
We jogged out onto the field to the roar of the crowd. The crisp fall air hit my face, helping to clear my head. I had better fucking focus. We had a game to win.
The whistle blew and we were off. I lost myself in the rhythm of the game—the pounding of feet on grass, shouts echoing across the field, puffs of breath steaming from my lungs, muscles operating on pure memory. For a while, I managed to forget about Tore.
Then it happened. Tore got the ball, weaving through Butler’s defense like it was nothing. A perfect pass to Jake, who sent it sailing back to Tore right in front of the goal. With a powerful kick, Tore sent the ball flying past the goalie.
The crowd erupted. Before I knew what I was doing, I was running toward Tore. He turned, beaming, arms outstretched. Instinct took over, and my arms wrapped around him in a brief, fierce hug—an embrace meant to be purely congratulatory. For a moment, everything else faded. All I could feel was the solid warmth of him, his rapid heartbeat against my chest. But as our bodies pressed close, the line between camaraderie and something more blurred dangerously.
Then reality came crashing back. We jerked apart like we’d been burned. Tore’s eyes were wide, a mix of elation and panic. My own pulse was racing, and not from the exertion.
“Good… good job,” I managed to get out, awkwardly patting his shoulder.
We stood there for a moment, neither sure what to do. Then Jake came barreling over, tackling Tore in a hug. I used the distraction to retreat, my mind reeling.
What the fuck was I doing? I couldn’t be feeling this… whatever it was… for Tore. It would ruin everything: the team dynamic, my focus, my whole damn life plan. But as I glanced back at him, surrounded by our cheering teammates, my heart clenched.
I was so screwed.
As the match continued, I played harder, ran faster, desperate to prove to myself that nothing had changed. Yet the truth was etched into every stolen look, every accidental brush of our hands. Somehow, Tore had gotten under my skin, and kissing him had only made it worse.
Butler scored in the last minute before halftime, which was always tough timing. Heading into the break when you were ahead in the game was so much easier. But we were playing well, and Coach only had encouragement and praise for us, which was rare.
Then he turned to Tore. “You have free rein,” he told him. “Have at ’em.”
“Unleash the Tore!” Jake yelled, which had everyone in stitches, and even I chuckled. Something told me that phrase would stick.
We started the second half feeling good about our chances. My eyes followed Tore as he navigated the pitch with the grace of a dancer and the precision of a predator. The Butler defense had clued into the danger Tore created, and he had two men on him at all times. That left Ethan open, who saw his chance. He took the shot, and the ball curved through the air like it had been fired from a cannon. But the goalie was on it, managing to block it with outstretched fists. Still, it had been a solid attempt.
We kept pushing, kept pressuring, and time and again, Tore tried to break free, but to no avail. His frustration was palpable, but he stayed calm. Time passed, and no matter what we did, we couldn’t break through again.
Then, in the last minute of regular play time, Tore received a perfect cross from Daniel, and the roar of the crowd swelled as he broke away from his defenders, sprinting at full speed. I held my breath as he pivoted gracefully, his lean body a blur of motion. With a precision that seemed almost superhuman, he connected with the ball, sending it sailing past the goalkeeper’s outstretched hands. Goal!
This time, I held back, letting the others swarm him first. Our teammates slapped his back and ruffled his perfectly styled hair. His laughter, bright and genuine, cut through the pandemonium, reaching me even as I stood rooted to my spot. His face was flushed, hair tousled, eyes bright with exhilaration. He looked… breathtaking.
Across the field, our eyes met and held. His grin was broad, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people on the field. I raised my hand in a silent acknowledgment of what he’d done for us. He nodded. It somehow cost me to break eye contact and resume playing.
The final whistle blew a few minutes later, cementing our victory. As captain, I gathered the team for our post-game huddle, trying to ignore how my skin prickled when Tore’s shoulder brushed against mine.
“Great job out there, everyone,” I said. “Especially you, Tore. Those were some damn fine goals.”
I ignored the shocked gasps of my teammates and focused on Tore, who ducked his head, a pleased smile playing on his lips. “Thank you, but it was a team effort. I couldn’t have done it without everyone’s support.”
I cleared my throat, wrapping up the huddle quickly before heading to the locker room.
Back in the locker room, the adrenaline was still palpable, echoing off the walls along with all the laughter and chatter. I slumped onto the bench, allowing myself a moment to breathe, to try and sort through the jumbled thoughts colliding in my head.
The celebratory atmosphere continued as we changed. I tried to keep my eyes to myself. I really did. But they kept drifting to Tore like a compass finding true north. He was peeling off his sweat-soaked jersey, revealing smooth, pale skin. A bead of perspiration trickled down his spine, and I found myself wondering what it would taste like if I licked?—
“Earth to Farron!” Colin’s voice snapped me back to reality. “You good, man? You’re looking a little out of it.”
“Yeah. Coming down from the adrenaline, you know?”
Colin nodded, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. I forced myself to relax, to act normal.
I waited until most of the guys had left before standing, keeping my eyes fixed on my locker as I undressed. My hand shook slightly as I unbuttoned my shirt, and I frowned at my own reaction.
“Hey, you okay?” Tore’s voice, too close for comfort, made me stiffen.
“Yeah, fine,” I grunted without turning to face him. “Tired.”
“Me too.”
I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and unsettling. “Good game,” I added because what else could I say?
“Thank you, Farron,” he said softly, and something in his tone had my heart beating faster, betraying the disinterest I tried so hard to project. Fuck, I loved the way he said my name with that posh accent.
“Shower’s waiting for you,” I said in a lame attempt to redirect the conversation as I stepped past him.
“Right,” he murmured, and as I walked away, I didn’t dare look back.
* * *
The bus rumbled beneath me as we returned to Hawley College. I stared out the window, not really seeing the trees and buildings streaking by. My mind was a fucking mess.
I thought getting each other off would solve this… whatever it was. A one-and-done kind of deal. But now, every glance, every accidental brush of skin, set my nerves on fire. It defied logic, clashed with everything I thought I knew about myself. If anything, it had only made it worse. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Tore’s face, flushed and wanton. I felt the ghost of his touch on my skin.
I leaned my head against the cool window, watching the blur of passing streetlights cast intermittent shadows across Tore’s face. He sat across the aisle, lost in his own world, his eyes closed and a faint smile playing on his lips.
I clenched my jaw. Why him? Why a spoiled, rich-as-fuck guy who never had to work for a damn thing in his life? It went against everything I stood for.
But then I remembered the determination in his eyes during practice, the way he pushed himself harder than anyone else on the field. How he’d kept pace with me during the hangover-from-hell practice. The genuine happiness when he scored goals, not for himself, but for the team. How he’d kept fighting to score today, even with two defenders on him. Was that not grit, discipline, determination?
“Fuck,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.
When we finally got back to campus, I hung back as everyone filed off the bus. “Tore,” I called out, keeping my voice low. “Stay behind and help me with the equipment, yeah?”
He blinked, those impossibly blue eyes widening slightly. “Of course.”
We made our way to the locker room in silence. As soon as we were inside, the air thickened with tension. Our movements around each other in the locker room were hesitant like two magnets repelling and attracting at the same time. I busied myself with unloading gear, hyperaware of Tore’s presence behind me.
“That was quite the game,” Tore said, his voice soft. “I still can’t quite believe it.”
I turned to face him, my breath catching at how close he was. “You played amazing. Those goals were beautiful.”
A pleased flush spread across Tore’s cheeks. “Thank you. Though I couldn’t have done it without the support of the whole team.”
He reached past me to grab a bag, his arm brushing against mine. Even that slight contact sent a jolt through my body. I inhaled sharply, catching a whiff of his cologne—something woodsy and expensive that made my head spin.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. His closeness was a live wire, sparking against every nerve I had.
“Stop apologizing.” My heart hammered against my ribcage like it was trying to escape, betraying my cool exterior.
“Then stop making me feel like I need to,” he countered.
He was right there, so close I could see the darker flecks in his blue eyes, the faintest sheen of sweat on his brow. It was intoxicating.
The air between us crackled with electricity. I should step back, put some distance between us. But my body had other ideas, gravitating toward him like a moth to a flame.
I couldn’t resist any longer. With a low growl, I grabbed Tore’s jersey and pulled him against me, crashing our lips together. He responded immediately, his hands tangling in my hair as he kissed me back with equal fervor. He tasted like victory, his mouth forcing mine open with a demand I met willingly.
The kiss was hot, desperate, and messy, just like our first encounter. Our need hadn’t diminished, and there was no hesitation, only raw desire coursing through us both. We were lips locking, bodies brushing, hands threading hair and grasping at fabric.
I backed Tore up against the lockers, pressing my body flush against his. He gasped into my mouth, the sound sending shivers down my spine.
“Fuck,” I breathed, breaking away to trail kisses along his jaw. “What are you doing to me?”
Tore’s laugh was breathless. “That bewilderment is quite mutual, Captain.”
His accent, thicker now with arousal, drove me wild. I captured his lips again, sliding my tongue into his mouth. Tore met me stroke for stroke, his hands roaming down my back to grip my ass.
“Fuck,” I gasped when his teeth nipped at my lower lip, drawing a thin line of pain that shot straight to my dick. My hands roamed over his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his shirt, wanting more, needing everything.
“Here?” Tore panted against my neck, and the word was a question and an invitation.
“Fuck yeah.” I didn’t care where we were. All that mattered was the heat of his body, the way he fit against me, the sheer relief of giving in to this craving.
Our shirts came off, our hands slipped under our pants, and we were lost in the moment, the sound of our ragged breathing and the sensation of skin against skin making everything else disappear. It was raw and real and nothing like I’ve ever felt before.
A sudden click of the door handle pierced through the haze of desire. We sprang apart, panic flooding my system. My heart pounded as I frantically tried to straighten my disheveled appearance, dragging my shirt over my head so roughly, my ear got caught, and I stifled a curse.
“Hello?” Becca called out. “Anyone still in here?”
I exchanged a wide-eyed look with Tore, both of us frozen in place. If we were caught like this… One look at us and she’d know what we’d been up to. I cleared my throat. “Just me,” I shouted. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Okay. Make sure to lock up, Farron, okay?”
“Will do!”
The door closed again, but I still waited until I was certain Becca had left. Then, I let out a deep exhale. “Fuck, that was close.”
Only moments ago, Tore’s lips had been on mine, heat and urgency pressing us together. Now, stark fear replaced that warmth like a cold shock to the system, a brutal reminder that what was happening between us wasn’t merely complicated; it was impossible, a risk that could change everything, that could affect the entire team.
My mind raced with all the potential fallout, the criticism, the gossip… But even in the midst of the fear, there was a defiant part of me that didn’t want to let go. Not yet. Not until I knew what this was.
“We can’t,” I said, squashing my needs down. “It’s irresponsible toward the team.”
“Agreed,” Tore said quickly, too quickly.
“Okay, then we’re on the same page.” I finally risked meeting his eyes and regretted it immediately. How was I supposed to walk away when he looked so forlorn?
I spun on my heels, forcing myself to step away. “Go home. I’ll finish up here.”
I didn’t look up until he’d left.