Chapter 17
17
FARRON
I was a dick.
Walking out after sex had been an absolute dick move, and Tore would be right to never speak to me again after that. But sheer, utter panic had filled me, and I’d needed to get out of there fast. When he’d offered to bottom for me—and Jesus, that had been a shock—I’d thought it would be like any other hookup. Maybe even easier because women were much more likely to get a little clingy. Yeah, yeah, that was probably sexist, but I’d been there.
With Tore, sex should’ve been easy. Uncomplicated. Wham, bam, thank you… man. After all, we’d agreed this was nothing but sex.
But then we’d shared that experience, that absolutely mind-blowing experience, and I’d been shocked to my core. What should’ve been a quickie had turned into something so intimate and special that I’d been lost for words. It had been intense and raw, the sort of thing you couldn’t unfeel. And Christ, did I feel it—an emotion that scared the hell out of me because it made believing my own lie that this was mere sex impossible.
My stomach twisted with regret. I’d panicked and pushed Tore away, but the truth was, I had wanted nothing more than to cuddle with him, to hold him. To stay. I’d never felt a connection like that before. It scared the shit out of me.
My mind kept replaying every moment with him, an endless memory of every touch, every moan, every gasp. The softness of his skin, his breathy whimpers, the way he’d looked at me with those gorgeous blue eyes, how he’d clung to me as I’d filled him, how he’d felt around my cock…
A beep from my phone interrupted my thoughts, and I subtly rearranged myself—boners in public were so embarrassing—as I checked the message. My heart sank like a stone in a still pond.
Got the flu and can’t do the interview. Hope you can find someone else.
With those few words, my carefully constructed schedule for the English assignment to interview a non-native English speaker crumbled to dust. Bogdan, my Bosnian roommate from last year, had been the perfect candidate, and now he’d canceled. The guy was sick, so I couldn’t really blame him, but what a clusterfuck.
I needed to find a replacement, conduct the interview about the challenges of learning English, and write the entire damn paper. And it all needed to happen this weekend. Desperation clawed at my insides. Who would I be able to find at such short notice?
I scanned the library’s main room, my gaze flitting over faces, familiar and unfamiliar, absorbed in their own worlds of study and leisure. No one I recognized fit the bill for my assignment. They’d either been born in the US or had lived here for part of their lives.
I needed someone with a story, someone new to the country who struggled with the nuances of the English language. And then, as if summoned by my frantic thoughts, Tore walked in and sat at a table, opening his laptop.
Could I…?
There had to be someone else. Anyone but him. But who would be available on such short notice?
Even if I asked him, he’d refuse. Not that I could blame him after how I had hightailed it out of his room the previous week. Like I said, it had been a dick move.
He was the epitome of what I didn’t need right now—a reminder of privilege and ease—but he was also my last shot at salvaging this assignment. I couldn’t afford an F, so I’d have to suck it up.
My jaw clenched as I approached him, my pride taking a back seat to necessity.
“Hey, Tore,” I started, my voice surprisingly steady, given the turmoil I felt.
He looked shocked for a moment before he caught himself. “Hello, Farron.”
“Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want to help, but I’m in a bind. My interviewee bailed on me for my English project. I need to talk to someone about the challenges they’ve faced learning English. Would you be willing to be interviewed?”
He turned those piercing blue eyes on me, his expression unreadable. There was a brief pause where the air between us seemed to hum with the history of my less-than-stellar behavior toward him. I braced myself for rejection, ready to turn and walk away.
“I would be delighted to help you with your assignment.” The words rolled off his tongue with that distinctive accent that spoke of his impeccable upbringing.
Surprise must have painted my face because the corner of Tore’s mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile. It was unsettling how easily he’d agreed to help, considering the chip on my shoulder I’d been carrying around since we met and how we’d parted ways last week, thanks to me.
“Really?” I asked, not able to mask my disbelief. “Even after…?”
“Yes.” He closed his laptop with a soft click. “I can’t promise my answers will be fascinating, but I’ll share what I can.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it, really. When do you have time?”
“I can do it now if that’s convenient for you?”
“Now is perfect. Again, thanks.”
He stood, gesturing for me to lead the way. “Shall we find a quiet place to talk?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” I shook off the shock and led him to one of the private study rooms reserved for group projects. The interview was back on track, but now it was with someone whose life couldn’t be more different from mine. Someone who, despite everything, was willing to lend me a hand when I least expected it—or deserved it.
I observed him as he settled in. He wore a deceptively simple white tee and jeans, but on him, they seemed tailor-made, accentuating his physique. Even dressed down, he looked like he’d stepped out of a high-end fashion catalog—the kind I used to find crumpled up in the mailbox, immediately trashed because who cared about clothes that were pricier than my entire wardrobe? Everything about him seemed so damn effortless.
Before we started, I had to address the proverbial elephant in the room. “I’m sorry for running out the other day. After we had”—I made a gesture—“sex.”
He cocked his head, his expression neutral. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No. Not at all. It was…” I sighed. “It’s complicated, but it wasn’t you. It was me.”
“Well, that’s reassuring in all its vagueness.”
“I mean it. I was… a dick.”
“I’m glad we agree.”
Hearing him confirm it made me feel better, which was ridiculous but the truth, nonetheless.
“Anyway, you ready?” I asked.
“Absolutely. I’m curious to see what your assignment is about.”
“The goal of the interview is to ask about your challenges in learning English as a foreign language. To verify, it is a foreign language for you, right?”
He chuckled. “Was it my charming accent that gave it away?”
I would never in a million years admit it, but his accent was charming. “When did you first learn English?”
He folded his hands. “In Norway, we start with learning English as a second language in the last two years of elementary school, but I started a little earlier than that. We had a British nanny, and she taught me the basics.”
A nanny. Of course he’d had a nanny. Go figure. “How is English taught in schools in Norway?”
“There’s a heavy focus on the grammar, especially initially, and it often comes at the expense of verbal fluency. Initially, my passive English far exceeded my verbal abilities.”
How did he always manage to sound so smart? He was so comfortable using complex words and sentences, which was even more remarkable considering English was a second language for him. “Growing up in Norway, are you exposed to a lot of English?”
He nodded. “We are, as dubbing is not common, and we watch English movies and TV series in the original language but with Norwegian subtitles.”
My eyes widened. “You can keep up with those? I struggle watching foreign movies with subtitles. It’s always too fast for me.”
“It’s a matter of experience, I think. We’re so used to it that most of us have no issue with it. Kids learn it from a young age. And because we hear English and read the Norwegian, we automatically pick up a lot of the English language, though not always the correct or polite expressions.”
“Like what?”
He chuckled. “My cousin and I watched the first three Die Hard movies together when we were ten or so. My English teacher did not appreciate us repeating the most famous catchphrase from those movies.”
Oh my god. I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “You said yippee-ki-yay in class?”
“Yes, but it was the word that followed that got us into trouble.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
He leaned forward. “It’s funny, but it does show a challenge. When you hear characters in a movie use certain language, like saying shit or fuck all the time, how are you to know you’re not supposed to say that in polite society?”
He made a good point, actually, one I had never considered. “You’re saying American media doesn’t accurately represent American culture when it comes to language.”
“Exactly, but that distinction is subtle and not easily understood, especially for teenagers. A friend of mine did an exchange program and went to an American high school for a year. He was also part of a church program there, and in the first week, he got in big trouble for using words like shit , fuck , and damn in youth group.”
I winced. “I can’t deny there’s a certain double standard there.”
“But generally speaking, idioms and expressions are the biggest challenge, especially those connected to American phenomena.”
“Like what?”
Thinking furrows marred his forehead, but then his face lit up. “Sports expressions. Like getting to first base or second base when you’re referring to sexual activities. That made absolutely no sense to me until I understood it had to do with baseball.”
“You don’t have baseball in Norway?”
“We do, but it’s not a big part of our culture, unlike here. And you have so many sports expressions. The other day, someone mentioned that the president needed to throw a Hail Mary to improve his approval rate, and I had no clue what that meant until Luke explained it was a football expression.”
“I can see how those are a challenge.” I jotted down some notes and then checked my list of prepared questions. “Can you think of any embarrassing situations where you got something completely wrong?”
“Well, my accent isn’t always easy to understand. Last week, I asked for water at a restaurant. My accent must have been thick because the waiter brought me butter instead. He must’ve wondered what on earth I wanted butter for, as he hadn’t brought out any food yet.” He flashed a grin that had no business being as endearing as it was.
“How about pronunciation? What’s been the biggest challenge there?”
His laugh was melodious. “You mean other than there being no rhyme or reason to it? Case in point is Worcestershire , where one only pronounces half the letters. Or extraordinary , which really should be pronounced extra-ordinary but instead becomes this glued-together jumble. Or the word read , which, depending on the meaning, can be pronounced in two different ways. Exact same word. I mean, really, the list goes on and on.”
He was giving me some really good examples. “I can see why that’s a struggle.”
“Or plural forms. One mouse, two mice. But not one house, two hice. Or meese for two moose since it’s also two geese.”
I couldn’t suppress a snicker. “Yeah, there’s no logic there.”
“None at all, which means you have to learn each one on their own. It’s learning a lot of lists, like irregular verbs, irregular plural forms, and rules.”
“What’s been most useful for you in learning English?”
“Being immersed in English-speaking environments. I was fortunate to be able to travel a lot, and I’ve done immersive language courses in the UK, Australia, and New Zealand. Not being able to communicate in any other language than English is the best way to learn, even if it can be scary.”
My grip on the pen tightened until my knuckles turned white. “Must’ve been nice to have those opportunities.”
“Indeed, it was quite beneficial for my language development,” he continued, apparently oblivious to the sharp edge in my voice. “The tutors were exceedingly helpful as well.”
Tutors. Trips abroad. Nannies. His world was so far removed from mine that it wasn’t even funny. My resentment swelled like a tide, threatening to spill over as I recalled the countless nights Mom worked double shifts and we still had to choose which bills to pay.
“Is something wrong?” Tore asked, concern creeping into his otherwise steady gaze.
“Nothing,” I snapped, then forced myself to take a breath, reining in my emotions. “Let’s focus on the interview.”
As I asked more questions and Tore spoke of idyllic childhood experiences, my mind raced back to the cramped apartment where my siblings and I would huddle around a secondhand table, laughter often mingling with the stress lines on Mom’s face. She’d always tried to shield us from the worst of it, but you can’t hide reality when it’s banging on your door.
“Of course, having all those opportunities to perfect my English helped,” Tore was saying, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have to work hard.”
“Hard work…” I rolled my eyes. His version of “hard work” probably meant something entirely different from mine.
“You doubt I worked hard?” Tore’s expression shifted from open and relaxed to something sharper, more defensive.
I shrugged. “Rich boy faces ‘challenges’ but has all the resources to overcome them. Must be tough.”
The air between us crackled with tension, and this time, not the sexual kind. Tore’s jaw clenched. “You think you know everything about me because I grew up with money?” His voice rose, a rare edge slicing through the usual calm. “You don’t know the first thing about my challenges.”
“Sure, but you never had to fight for anything. Not like some of us.”
“Challenges aren’t limited to money, Farron.” His voice held a tremor, betraying a passion I hadn’t witnessed before. “You think because I’ve had tutors and traveled that I haven’t faced difficulties? That everything has been handed to me on a silver platter?”
“Hasn’t it?”
“My struggles may not have been monetary, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t faced challenges.” He stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. “Do you know what it’s like to constantly be compared to those who came before you? To carry the weight of a future you didn’t choose? To give up a dream that’s within reach because of duty?”
His words hung heavy in the air, and my mind raced, struggling to reconcile this raw, emotional side of Tore with the poised figure he’d always shown me.
“So, yeah, I’ve had privileges,” he continued, his voice dropping to a bitter tone. “But I’ve also been locked in a life that demands everything and allows for nothing personal. No choices, no freedom.”
I swallowed. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Tore gave me a long look, his anger fading to resignation as he sat down again. “No one ever does,” he murmured, taking a deep breath as he composed himself. “Let’s finish the interview.”
As we resumed, my thoughts stuck on the glimpse he’d given me into his world—a world far more complex than I’d assumed.
I rushed through the remaining questions until I’d asked them all.
“Are we done?”
“Yeah, I have enough.” I cleared my throat, setting aside the notebook. “Why did you agree to this? To the interview?”
“Because you asked,” he said simply, and damn if that didn’t make me feel like even more of an ass.
“Thanks,” I said, and I meant it.
“You’re welcome.” His eyes held a hint of sadness I hadn’t seen before. He walked out before I could say anything else.
Stunned, I sank deeper into my chair, my mind a whirlwind of confusion. The clarity with which I had always viewed Tore’s life—privileged, pampered, perfect—was blurring. Had I failed to see his constraints, his lack of liberty in a gilded cage? He’d mentioned having to give up his dream of playing professional soccer, but maybe that hadn’t been the only sacrifice he’d had to make? So maybe his life wasn’t quite as perfect as I had imagined it to be.
But as much as this new understanding clawed at the walls I’d built around my heart, a bitter taste lingered on my tongue. Because no matter how gilded his cage might be, it was still a cage he could step out of. Unlike poverty, which clung to your skin, infused your bones, and defined your every waking moment.
The truth was, Tore’s struggles might be real, but they didn’t keep him awake at night, wondering if there would be enough food for his siblings or if the lights would stay on. They didn’t force him to juggle school with a job or weigh on him with the constant pressure to succeed because failure meant more than personal disappointment; it meant letting down everyone who depended on you.
No, Tore might be a little more complex than I’d initially thought, but that didn’t mean he and I were similar in any way… and we never would be.