Chapter 14
14
TORE
Norwegians are known for being pretty levelheaded, like most northern European countries. Our tempers tend to run cool and our patience long, which comes in handy with our endless dark winters. In parts of Norway, the sun barely shines in the winter and days only have a few hours of light. The landscape is brutally beautiful, desolate and devoid of human interference, but I couldn’t survive there, unlike the Sámi people, who have made that area their home for well over two thousand years.
That was why it was so baffling to me that I couldn’t stop thinking about Farron. Not only that, but my thoughts focused on him with an intensity that was new to me. I’d had crushes before and had even considered myself in love with a girl once, but this was a whole different level. Why was I so obsessed with Farron?
After our kiss in the locker room, he’d gone back to ignoring me. What did it say about me that I almost preferred him hating me over this feigned indifference? Probably that I wasn’t quite as levelheaded as I had thought. Or that I wasn’t as intelligent as I had imagined myself to be. Perhaps both.
I tried my hardest to avoid him during training and games, subtly maneuvering myself away from his vicinity whenever possible as if he were the bane of my existence rather than the object of my increasingly vivid fantasies.
But no matter how I attempted to focus on drills and plays, my traitorous mind kept drifting back to him, painting highly detailed images of our heated exchanges and the crackling chemistry between us. The way his muscles rippled as he moved, the intensity in his brown eyes, the deep timbre of his voice…
I’d never felt this way about anyone, let alone a man, and the confusion it stirred within me was as thrilling as it was terrifying. The days blurred into one another like a Fado song, each day filled with soccer and school, as well as with longing and lamenting. The good news was that we were in the midst of the conference championships and were in an excellent position to proceed to the nationals.
The bad news was that no matter what I did, I could. Not. Stop. Thinking. About. Farron.
After the game against Butler, Coach decided Farron and I had mended fences and rescinded his threat of making us room together. I wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.
On a late afternoon training, I darted across the field, my cleats digging into the damp grass as I maneuvered around my teammates. My eyes flicked to Farron, standing tall and commanding at the center of our defensive line. I veered sharply left, putting more distance between us.
“Tore!” Jake called out, waving his arms.
I passed the ball to him, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. As Jake dribbled downfield, Coach’s whistle sounded.
“Good hustle! Take five, then we’ll run some more drills.”
I bent over, hands on my knees, catching my breath. Sweat dripped down my face as I tried to calm my racing pulse. Once my lungs stopped protesting, I made my way to the sidelines, grabbing my water bottle and taking a long drink. My gaze drifted back to Farron, now chatting with some of the other defenders.
Our gazes collided, and the world around us melted away, the other players fading into the background. All I could see was him, and my need for him was an almost visceral pain inside me. Magnets irresistibly drawn to each other yet pushing each other away.
The only consolation was that he couldn’t drag his eyes away either, his gaze so intense, I was surprised no one commented on it. But someone would. If I kept staring at him like this, others would notice, which was the last thing I wanted.
Through a fog, Coach’s whistle signaled the end of our break. I forced myself to turn away from him, releasing a breath I’d been holding. With effort, I jogged back onto the field, deliberately positioning myself as far from Farron as possible.
My foot caught on an uprooted little patch of grass, and I stumbled, nearly face-planting on the grass. Farron stopped in his tracks, his chest heaving as he stared at me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he could see right through my carefully crafted facade, straight to the desires I’d been trying so hard to bury.
“Tore!” Coach Peterson called out. “Head in the game!”
If only he knew how much my head was anywhere but the game.
As practice dragged on, I found myself stealing more and more glances at Farron. Each time our eyes met, even briefly, it sent a jolt through my body.
“Tore! Look out!”
I turned just in time to see the soccer ball hurtling toward my face. With a yelp, I ducked, the ball whooshing past where my head had been moments before.
“Bloody hell!” I straightened to see my teammates staring at me with a mix of concern and amusement.
Farron jogged over, his brow furrowed. “You okay? Maybe you should sit the rest of practice out.”
“No!” I said too forcefully. “I mean, no, thank you. I’m quite all right. Merely a momentary lapse in concentration.”
Farron studied me for a long moment, his gaze so intense, my knees became weak. “If you say so. But be more careful, yeah? We need you in one piece for the game next week.”
As he turned away, I couldn’t help but wonder. Had he meant the team needed me? Or that he did?
Finally, the whistle blew, signaling the end of our grueling practice. I wiped the sweat from my brow, my muscles aching as I trudged toward the locker room with the rest of the team. As I was about to step off the field, I heard Farron’s deep voice behind me. “Hey, Tore. Hold up a sec.”
My heart leapt into my throat. I turned, trying to keep my face neutral. “Yes?”
Farron’s eyes darted around, making sure the others were out of earshot. “I need to talk to you. Can you stick around for a bit?”
“Of course,” I replied, hoping my voice didn’t betray my nerves. “Where would you like to chat?”
He jerked his head toward the bleachers. “There.”
He walked in front of me, his damp shirt clinging to his broad shoulders. I swallowed hard, forcing my eyes away. He held back until we walked side by side in silence, our cleats crunching against the gravel path that led away from the field. Neither of us seemed willing to fill the space between us with words. My throat felt dry, which was ludicrous after all the water I’d guzzled during practice.
“Under here should be good.” Farron nodded toward the area under the bleachers. His eyes scanned our surroundings, ensuring we were alone, and I followed him.
The space beneath the bleachers was cool and shadowy, a stark contrast to the bright, sunny field.
“Is this about me being distracted during training?” I asked. “I’ll focus better next time.”
Farron leaned against a metal support beam, the breadth of his shoulders more imposing in the semi-darkness. “It’s not about soccer.”
His voice was quieter now, stripped of its usual edge of authority.
“Then what—” The question died on my lips as something flickered in his eyes, an intensity that matched the quickening of my own pulse.
Farron ran a hand through his dark hair, a gesture I’d come to recognize as a sign of frustration. “Look, I’m not good at beating around the bush, so I’m gonna come out and say it.”
My pulse quickened. What on earth was he about to say?
“I can’t stop thinking about you. About our kisses. About touching you.”
That was the last thing I had expected him to say, and I had no clue how to respond. “Farron…”
Farron’s hands balled into fists at his sides, the veins on his forearms standing out like cords. “Every damn day… Every practice, every game, every dream, you’re always there, taunting me. It’s driving me fucking crazy.”
The raw edge in his voice sliced through the quiet, and my heart pounded out a frantic rhythm. This admission, this frustration—it was about me. My thrill of elation was tempered by a flicker of fear. “Is it so terrible? To think of someone?”
He stopped his pacing and glared at me. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not mere thinking. It’s this constant distraction.” His hand shot out, gripping my arm with a firmness that bordered on pain. “Why you? Why now? You’re everything I can’t stand, but there’s something about you that’s got me all messed up inside.”
My breath caught in my throat. His touch sent a jolt up my arm, and I smiled despite everything else. This magnetic pull wasn’t one-sided. “I don’t know, but maybe it’s because we’re not as different as you think. And yes, I feel it too.”
“Dammit!” Farron released me abruptly. “What are we supposed to do with this?”
I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “What do you want to do? About us?”
Farron’s brown eyes locked on mine, intense and conflicted. He was silent for a moment, and I could almost see the gears turning in his head. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe we should give in to it. Get it out of our systems.”
My heart leapt into my throat. “You mean…?”
“Nothing serious could ever grow between us. We’re too different, not to mention literally from different worlds. But we have this crazy chemistry, and I’m tired of fighting it.”
“So you wanna stop fighting it and give in?” Was I understanding this correctly?
“It has to be purely physical, all right? No strings attached. And it stays between us. Nobody can know about this, especially not the team.”
A mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through me. This was so far from anything I’d ever done, but I had never wanted anything or anyone more. “I agree to your terms. It shall be our secret.”
At first, his face showed that same frustrated, angry look, but then a smile teased the corner of his lips. “Always so proper.”
My cheeks heated. “So I’ve been told. But Farron, I… I want this. I want you.”
The intensity in his eyes seemed to double at my words. “Fuck, Tore,” he growled, taking a step closer to me. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
I swallowed hard, my body thrumming with anticipation. “Perhaps you could show me?”
I barely had time to catch my breath before Farron’s lips found mine. The force of it sent me stumbling back, my shoulders hitting the cool metal of the bleachers. His body pressed against mine, solid and warm, as his hands cupped my face.
Farron’s tongue swept across my bottom lip, seeking entrance. I opened to him eagerly, moaning as our tongues met. He tasted intoxicating.
I gasped into his mouth, overwhelmed by the sensations. His stubble scratched against my skin and sent shivers down my spine, igniting a fire in my belly.
Our bodies pressed together in a desperate bid for connection, our hands exploring each other with fervent need. My hands found their way to his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles ripple beneath his shirt as he moved. The world outside our secluded spot ceased to exist. There was only Farron and the raw need that coursed through us.
“ Faen ,” I breathed when we finally broke apart for air. My head was spinning, and I had trouble even remembering my own name.
Farron’s eyes were dark with desire as he looked at me. “What does that mean?”
“It’s Norwegian for… Well, it’s not polite to say in English.”
He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through his chest and into mine. “Didn’t know you had it in you. You’re always so proper.”
That was the second time he’d called me that. He wasn’t saying it in a negative way, yet it somehow grated me. “I’m not always proper.”
“No?” He trailed his hand along my neck, and I instinctively tilted it sideways to give him access. “Are you saying you can be dirty?”
Before I could respond, his lips were on my neck, trailing hot kisses down to my collarbone. I had to fight to stifle the embarrassingly loud moan that threatened to escape.
“I can be anything you want,” I panted, my hips instinctively bucking against his. The friction sent sparks of pleasure through my body, and I could feel how hard he was against me.
He groaned, pressing me harder against the bleachers. “Fuck, Tore. We need to stop.”
I whined in protest, but he was right. We were still under the bleachers, where someone could stumble upon us at any moment.
“We can’t.” Farron pulled back enough to look me in the eyes. “Not here.”
“Right.” I nodded, struggling for composure.
“We need privacy. Colin’s gone for training over the weekend, some special goalkeeper’s thing in Pennsylvania. Meet me in my room?”
The prospect of being alone with him, truly alone without fear of discovery, was exhilarating. “What time?”
“I’ll text you when he’s gone.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” He grinned, that rare expression that transformed his entire face.
I took a deep breath, running my fingers through my disheveled hair in an attempt to look presentable. “I should go first,” I said, my voice still husky from our heated exchange. “We wouldn’t want to arouse suspicion by leaving together.”
Farron nodded, his dark eyes still smoldering with desire. “Good thinking.”
“I’ll see you at practice tomorrow, then?”
“Yeah,” he replied, his expression softening for a moment. “I’ll be the guy who can’t take his eyes off you.”
A thrill rushed through me. “And I’ll be the one staring right back at you.”
“Now, get out of here before I change my mind about letting you leave.”
With one last lingering look, I slipped out from under the bleachers, my heart pounding as I scanned the area for any witnesses. Thankfully, the field was deserted. I straightened my shoulders and adopted what I hoped was a casual stride as I made my way to the locker room.
As I walked, my mind raced with thoughts of what had transpired. The feel of Farron’s lips on mine, his strong hands gripping my hips, the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with sweat—it was all burned into my memory. I couldn’t believe how quickly things had escalated between us. What on earth was I doing with him?
In two days, I would be alone with Farron in his room. The possibilities made my pulse quicken and my palms sweat. There was no going back now. I was in too deep.
And the scary thing was, I didn’t want to find my way out.