Chapter 22
22
TORE
I couldn’t take my eyes off Farron as he lounged on his dorm room bed, his muscular frame relaxed against the headboard. My heart raced, still not quite believing this gorgeous man was now officially my boyfriend. We had been forced to say something after RJ caught us, but Farron had still chosen to call what we had a relationship. He could’ve said it was a fling, a one-time thing, but he’d stated we were dating. So, boyfriends we were.
“You’re staring again,” Farron said with a smirk.
My cheeks flushed. “Can you blame me? You’re pretty nice to look at.”
“True.” He winked at me.
“Plus, I still have to pinch myself sometimes to make sure this is real.”
Farron’s expression softened. He reached out and pulled me onto the bed beside him, wrapping his strong arms around me as we turned on our sides, lying face to face. I melted into his embrace, relishing the warmth of his body against mine.
“I’m still coming to terms with it myself,” Farron murmured, his lips brushing my ear. “It’s been intense and confusing.”
“I’m glad you gave me a chance,” I said softly. “I know I’m not your normal type.”
He let out a short laugh. “No kidding. You have certain body parts that are new to me, plus…”
“Plus I’m rich.”
“Yeah. No offense.”
I stiffened slightly at his words, guilt twisting in my stomach. If only he knew the full extent of my wealth and status. But I pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the man beside me. “None taken. I understand.”
Farron was quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my arm. When he spoke again, his voice was hesitant. “When you were with me for Thanksgiving, you saw where I’m from. And that’s not even the small apartment we grew up in. My mom only bought that house a few years ago, when I was able to work and contribute.”
“It’s an amazing thing you’ve done for your family, stepping up like that.”
He was quiet for a long time. “I shouldn’t have had to. If my father’s family had done what they should have…”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you about my dad, right?”
“He died in a car crash, yes. Drunk driver. And you were in the car with him.”
“Exactly. Well, my father came from money.” Farron’s voice turned tight. “Old money. But after he died, his family turned their backs on us. On my mom, my siblings, and me. Left us with nothing.”
I felt a surge of anger on Farron’s behalf. “That’s horrible. How could they do that?”
Farron’s laugh was bitter. “Because they’re rich assholes who only care about themselves. They didn’t want anything to do with my mom. She grew up in a trailer park, so they considered her trailer trash. They never thought she was good enough for their precious son. So after he died, they cut her loose and broke off all ties with her and with us, their grandkids.”
His words stung, hitting too close to home. He wasn’t talking about me specifically, but I still felt defensive. Not all wealthy people were like that. But I bit my tongue, knowing this wasn’t the time to argue. “What happened after that?”
Farron’s eyes grew distant. “It was rough. Mom worked multiple jobs, but we still struggled. I started working as soon as I could, trying to help out. We relied on food stamps, the food bank, and a local church that helped us. I hated it. Hated feeling helpless, hated seeing my mom work herself to exhaustion, hated seeing my siblings go hungry at times. Especially because our lives had been fine before that. We hadn’t been rich, but my dad had held a good job as an accountant, and we’d never had issues paying the bills. We lived in a nice home, had two cars, and my mom only worked part-time at the hospital.”
My chest tightened as I imagined a young Farron shouldering so much responsibility. It was a world so far removed from my privileged upbringing that I could scarcely comprehend it. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You’ve overcome so much.”
Farron’s fingers tightened around mine. “Soccer was my way out. My ticket to a better life. That’s why it means so much to me.”
And now he’d had to come to terms with not playing for a pro team like he’d dreamed of for so long. My dream had been shattered when my father put his foot down, but it had never been about money for me or about survival. Soccer had been my passion, but not a way to a better life. “Is that why you pushed yourself so hard? Why you expect so much from the team?”
“I couldn’t afford to fail. This scholarship, this opportunity, it was everything to me. To my family. And it’s a little different now that I’ve accepted my future isn’t in soccer. At least, not as a player. But for many years, it was the only way I could see myself and my family rise out of poverty.”
The weight of his words settled over us. I felt humbled by his strength, his determination. But a nagging voice in the back of my mind whispered I was deceiving him. That I didn’t deserve his trust. “What your father’s family did was reprehensible. But not all rich people are like that. Many wealthy individuals use their resources for good.”
Farron’s eyebrows knitted together, his posture stiffening slightly. I pressed on, determined to make my point. “Take Bill Gates, for instance. He’s donated billions to charitable causes. Or Warren Buffett, who’s pledged to give away most of his fortune. Bono has always stood up for causes he believes in. Even celebrities like Angelina Jolie use their wealth and influence to make a difference.”
I watched Farron’s face, searching for any sign that my words were getting through. His jaw was set, but I could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “I’m not saying all rich people are saints, and I know that there are bad apples among them,” I continued, my voice soft. “But wealth itself isn’t inherently evil. It’s how people choose to use their money and power that matters.”
Farron was quiet for a long moment. “I get what you’re saying, Tore. And I know you’re different. You’ve shown me that. The way you treat everyone on the team, how hard you work, how generous you are…”
My heart swelled at his words, even as guilt gnawed at my insides.
“But it’s not that simple,” Farron continued. “I can’t flip a switch and change how I feel. This bitterness… It’s been a part of me for so long.”
I nodded, understanding the complexity of his emotions. “I don’t expect you to change overnight. I just wanted to offer my view, show you a different side.”
Farron’s lips quirked in a small smile. “You’re always trying to see the best in people, aren’t you?”
I shrugged, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “I suppose it’s how I was raised. To look for the good, even when it’s not immediately apparent.”
“It’s one of the things I lo—” Farron caught himself, clearing his throat. “One of the things I admire about you.”
My heart raced at his near-confession. I wanted to hear those words, to say them back. But the weight of my secret held me back. Instead, I leaned in and kissed him softly, hoping to convey everything I couldn’t say aloud.
As our lips parted, a charged silence fell over the room. I gazed into Farron’s deep, brown eyes, searching for any hint of suspicion or doubt. But all I saw was warmth and affection, which only intensified my guilt. Here was Farron, opening up about his past, his fears, his prejudices, and I was holding back the most fundamental truth about myself. The weight of my royal lineage pressed down on me, threatening to crush this fragile connection we’d forged.
Farron’s calloused hand cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing my jawline. “You okay? You seem… I don’t know, distant all of a sudden.”
I forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. “I’m fine. Just thinking about everything you’ve shared. It’s a lot to process.”
“Yeah, I did dump quite a bit on you. Sorry about that.”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “I’m glad you told me. I want to know you, Farron. All of you.”
The irony of my words wasn’t lost on me. Here I was, encouraging honesty while hiding behind a facade of half-truths.
Farron leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine. “I want that too, Tore. With you.”
My heart ached at the sincerity in his voice. I wanted to blurt out the truth right then and there, consequences be damned. But fear held my tongue.
Instead, I kissed him again, desperately, as if I could somehow make up for my dishonesty through physical affection. Farron responded eagerly, his strong arms wrapping around me, pulling me closer.
When we finally broke apart, breathless, I knew I had to leave before I completely lost my resolve. “I should go.” I reluctantly disentangled myself from his embrace. “Early practice tomorrow.”
Farron nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you on the field, yeah?”
“Absolutely.” At the door, I turned back for one last look. Farron sat on his bed, hair mussed, lips swollen from our kisses. The sight of him, so open and trusting, nearly broke me.
I hurried back to my dorm room, each step heavier than the last. By the time I reached my door, I was practically running, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of my guilt. Once inside, I leaned against the closed door, sliding to the floor. The silence of my empty room pressed in on me, amplifying the turmoil in my mind.
I needed to talk to someone who would understand and be honest with me, but who could I turn to? My eyes fell on my phone, and suddenly, I knew. Floris. I could always count on him to be direct with me. Others sometimes perceived it as rude, but I didn’t. He simply spoke the truth, and sometimes, people took offense.
With trembling fingers, I pressed Call. Each ring felt like an eternity until, finally, I heard his familiar voice.
“Tore? Is everything all right?” Floris asked, concern evident in his tone.
“I’ve royally mucked things up, Flo,” I blurted out, wincing at my unintentional pun. “I need your advice.”
I heard rustling on the other end, then Floris’s voice again, clearer this time. “I’m listening. What’s going on?”
Taking a deep breath, I launched into my tale. He already knew about Farron since he’d been the one I asked about blowjobs, so I shared the new developments and my growing guilt over hiding my true identity. “He hates rich people,” I said, my voice cracking. “He’s had such a rough life, and I’m lying to him every day. I don’t know what to do.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then Floris spoke, his words measured and careful. “Tore, you need to tell him the truth.”
“But what if he hates me?” I asked, voicing my deepest fear.
“He might,” Floris admitted. “But if you don’t tell him, and he finds out some other way, it’ll be much worse. Trust me on this.”
I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. “You’re right. I know you’re right. But how do I even begin that conversation?”
“There’s no easy way,” Floris said gently. “But the longer you wait, the harder it’ll be. You need to come clean before this goes any further.”
He was right, but bloody hell, the thought of telling Farron filled me with dread. How would he react? “Thanks,” I said softly. “I knew I could count on you to tell me the truth.”
Floris chuckled. “It’s the only way I know. Now go get some sleep. You’ve got a big conversation ahead of you.”
After we hung up, I lay in bed, my mind racing. How would Farron react? Would this be the end of us before we’d truly begun? The uncertainty was agonizing, but I knew Floris was right. I had to tell Farron the truth, no matter the consequences.
All I had to do was figure out how.