Chapter Two
Ten years later…
As far as fundraisers go, this one was record breaking. It had to be. The amount of people was probably violating a fire code, but since both the fire chief and the chief of police had been here for an hour already, it didn’t seem like anyone would be getting in trouble. The hurricanes in Florida impacted several areas. A few of the owners such as Gabriel Dare, owner of nightclubs in NYC and Florida, decided to join forces to raise money. It didn’t hurt he had connections to the professional football team there.
After a brief hello to Gabriel and his wife, Isabelle, and receiving an invitation to visit the southern state to photograph, and possibly do an article on one or more of their establishments, Libby made her way through the crowd until she was alone at the back of the room near an exit should she need it. She never wanted to go to Florida again. She didn’t tell them that, but the state held more than one bad memory for her. The only good memory was a really good one and it was what brought her to this event, more accurately, he was what brought her to this event.
She realized as they began setting up the first items for auction that her friend had lied to her or she had somehow misinterpreted the items up for bidding. By the look of it, they were not auctioning off an evening with a professional athlete. They were auctioning off autographed equipment. Chelsea had simply sworn that Constantine would be here this evening. He wasn’t. Libby looked around the room and understood clearly why the male to female ratio was about twenty to one.
All of this fuss over some sports equipment. The first item up for bid was a single signed jersey. She shook her head. What good would that do her? She was about to leave when the numbers began to rise and she found herself enjoying the bidding war. These people were entertaining in their efforts to either subtly or not so subtly place the bid.
One item after the next sold in the high hundreds until another single jersey sold for over a thousand dollars. At that point, she decided she would stay a while longer. After all, his items would be up for bid and she wondered how much they would bring in by comparison. She knew the press outside would have been taking notes and names. Libby wasn’t interested in sports. Never had been, never would be. Sports had been the reason the man of her dreams was remaining in Florida when she needed to get away from there.
That one night with Constantine had kept her warm for the last ten years when other men fell short of interest, much less a shot at her bed. How could she feel so much for a man she barely spoke to? They had one night of passion and the next day, they were back to the socially inadequate people they were prior to it, only worse because she couldn’t look at him without thinking of all they had done, which made her blush more, fumble for words harder, and…Libby was getting angry with herself all over again. She decided that she was only shy and socially inept around him. As evident by the fact that she was a professional journalist. She could talk to anyone these days and without any awkwardness.
The auctioneer began to rattle off the next name, the significance of the jersey, football, and helmet combo and before he could begin, people were shouting out numbers and taking her mind off of Constantine. The snorted laugh was Libby’s, but the clearing of the throat after the laugh was not. She gulped and spoke over her shoulder to whatever offended male stood behind her in that doorway. “I’m sorry. I know this is for charity. I just…I don’t get it.”
“Then why are you here?”
Libby bit her lower lip and closed her eyes a moment as another memory invaded her thoughts briefly before she shoved it aside and admitted without turning, because really, who could take their eyes off the spectacle unfolding in front of her as people began to stand up as if that made their bid more prominent. “I thought they were auctioning off athletes for an evening. I was told it was more like a bachelor auction.”
“You wanted to buy someone specific?”
“Someone I knew in college. His name was on the list.” She let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. She would have gladly cashed in her savings to buy one dinner with him, but she was not going to buy his autographed sneakers or whatever else they put on that stage!
“You don’t think he would notice you and maybe ask you out without your financial contribution to this cause?” His question gave her a moment of pause, but she knew better. She had sat one row behind him for four years of college English and literature classes. She gave him her notes when he missed class due to football. Admittedly, she did that voluntarily and without his request on more than one occasion via e-mail. She still knew that account by heart, but doubted he kept it after college. He was a professional athlete after all and that was ultimately the dividing factor for them. Her father had played basketball in high school, college, and he coached college ball until he got sick.
He gave that team everything and her mother couldn’t take it, so they divorced and moved to Florida where Libby practically raised herself. The thought of being with an athlete was why she lied and told Constantine she had a job in California after graduation. She didn’t even tell him face to face. She wrote it all down in a hand written letter and put it on his door before she packed her stuff up and left without saying goodbye. She took her last final the day after they slept together, went to the cafeteria to get lunch, saw the news that he was one of the people anticipated to be drafted by a professional football team, and knew she had to end it before it could ever really begin. She didn’t even walk for graduation and that suited her fine for two reasons. First, she didn’t have to see him. Second, it made her mother mad not to have a reason to throw a part afterward. That woman was never socially awkward. That woman also had more than enough assistance from substances to ensure as much.
Libby shook her head no, trying to shake the thoughts and answer the question. The bidding was getting really wild now and she couldn’t take her eyes off the spectacle of grown men and a few women practically ready to sell their first child if it got them that combination.
Libby understood later that Constantine was painfully shy back then and reasoned that her heart was so wrapped up in his writing that she got tongue tied around him. When chose football over his true calling, she knew it would never work for them. He had bruised her heart and he never even knew she had somewhat given it to him.
Maybe she was crazy to think there was a true spark just because she was obsessed with his literary skills and they happened to share that first experience with such passion that she knew if he asked her to, she would have set her life aside for his. She saw the results of that decision with her parents and it scared the hell out of her. She would not become her mother. It didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered is that what he never had a chance to say to her and the truth she could never say to him was all written down. She had been reading it over and over for the last ten years. She had added to it, never removing his words, but expanding it and adding her own.
No one compared to the man on that thumb-drive. No one. She thought about giving it back to him on a regular basis, but just couldn’t let it go. She couldn’t let him go. Obviously, since she was here to buy dinner with him and admittedly wanted to see what of his was up for auction. She laughed as the auctioneer called for order with the gavel. She supposed it helped that the man was a judge. As the crowd began to settle and the bidding was returned to the last dollar value sans a deed to a house and car, she shrugged and admitted, “I don’t think anyone would notice if I were on fire, much less standing here unless some player signed my ass right now and then they would only want the skirt!”
She wasn’t sure she heard the soft click of a cap separating from a writing device. Until she was positively certain someone was writing across the right side of her butt cheek. She was so shocked for a moment she couldn’t move. She thought of four things she should do, yet not a one of them spurred her body to action. Instead, she gulped and asked, “Did you just sign my ass?”
“I’d hate for you to go one more minute feeling… unnoticed.” He winked at her as her eyes settled on him. She felt her heartbeat kick into overdrive. She just admitted to the man she came with hopes of purchasing that she had arrived here with that intent. Heat flushed her body as she looked at a blushing professional football player holding a silver capped marker in his hand. He wiggled it and asked, “Who else did you know in college that plays pro ball these days?”
She fought through the embarrassment and the regression to the awkward girl that always stared at him, but rarely spoke. Libby was a long way from those days. She was a successful journalist, though she did not cover sports, and her confidence had been at an all-time high until this moment. In this moment, she was struck by what was the same and what had changed over the years based on what she could see. “Just what’s his name and…you.”
“Ah, what’s his name. I remember that guy.” He nodded as he chuckled. His baby blues smiled as much as his lips. His entire face was lit up with a joy she had only witnessed once before. He was always so serious all the time. Even in the few articles she had seen with his image attached, he was in that zone, focused, driven.
“To be clear, I thought contributing to a charity on behalf of having dinner with a fellow alumnus would be my good deed for the year.” She lied, but she was a bit flustered and didn’t want to seem like another girl tagging along after him. Even if she admittedly was in full on stalker phase until he showed up and talked to her.
“It’s Ingrid, right?” He squinted his eye as if in thought as she glared at him. Her mouth must have fallen open with the shock so she snapped it shut and clenched her teeth. He laughed and amended, “Elizabeth, but you go by Libby. Libby Peterson. The girl who left one morning and never came back.”
She wanted to say something to him, because in that moment he looked at her like she had stabbed him all those years ago and the wound was freshly opened and bleeding again. His name rang out across the space and he puffed out a breath and held up his hand as he said, “Wait for me.”
She was certain he didn’t hear her agree as he moved toward the stage. He headed down the center of the crowd to applause and pats on the back. She watched him take the stairs, and that was when she noticed that he was favoring one leg over the other ever so slightly. She didn’t pay attention to him as he spoke and they wheeled out his gear to be auctioned off. He was there to sign it in person, so she wouldn’t be able to afford anything with his name on it anyway.
Then she remembered he just signed her ass for free. She suppressed the laugh as she moved to the hallway and used her phone to search his name on the internet. Sure enough it read, “Everyone’s favorite kicker announces retirement from football after injury.”
Constantine Titus Crosby was retiring at the tender age of thirty. At twenty-nine, she was barely considered mid-level in her career and that was only because of her status as assistant editor to a quarterly home decorating publication. She read through several articles including one that indicated the team he started with in Florida would gladly take him back in an administrative capacity. He had only spent one year there and the next team he went to made him famous.
Famous, as in between their tryst and now, he had probably bedded a thousand women. She was resigning to the fact that he was probably not the guy he once was and she had loved a ghost. It suited her. Better to love a man that can’t break her than one who could. At least she had the signature on the ass of her favorite skirt should she need to sell it. She snickered and adjusted the best she could in an attempt to look at the offended area only to find the black material just as pristine on the right butt cheek as it was on the left.
“I wouldn’t really do that to you, but I admit, I’m intrigued that you seem disappointed.” His words registered as he settled against the doorframe.
“No, I…”
“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” He tilted his head and waited. She closed and then opened her eyes. Her mouth kept forming words but nothing was coming out of it. She hated being flustered, but she was really unprepared for this. He bit into his bottom lip a moment then said, “I get it. You came here to buy me. I’ll let you pick the place, hell I will even let you pay. I just think it would be a shame for you to leave emptyhanded when you can have exactly what you came here for. Don’t you?”
He was right that she had come to this fundraiser with the specific hope of winning the bid for a dinner with this man, but she wasn’t really counting on that happening. She had mainly wanted to see him. Now, she was seeing him, talking to him, and he wanted to go to dinner even if she hadn’t won the bid to do so. She took a fortifying breath and finally came up with a reason to bail on this plan. “There are reporters outside. The press will be all over you. I do want to have dinner with you, but I don’t know that I want to be in the newspaper tomorrow. My boss might not like that since he would rather I tell the story not be the story.”
She was sure he would say no, but he was not the guy she knew in college and he no longer had to focus on that football career, so she really had no idea what he would say. He studied her a moment and then said, “Send me your information and I will meet you at your place in an hour.”
She smiled at him. “You act like I have your contact information in my phone.”
She did. Well, she had that personal e-mail from college, but she doubted he would still use it.
“Same e-mail I put on the list freshman year. No one kept that thing apparently as I rarely get more than spam these days. Everything has moved over to social media. I suppose if you had that e-mail or bothered to look at my online information you would have just said hi long before now, right?” He motioned for her phone and she gave it to him after intentionally setting up the new contact screen for him to handle. She did not need this man’s ego growing any larger than his confidence suggested it may be already. His thumbs worked a moment then he handed it back to her. “Don’t share that.”
Libby looked at the phone. He had given her his home address and phone number. “You live in Tribeca?”
He nodded. New York was definitely not Florida. What did that mean? He hadn’t played for a New York team, so she was really confused by this.
“I live well outside the city. Maybe we should just go to your place instead.” She realized how forward that sounded by the expression on his handsome face, so she amended. “For dinner of course, it’s already six and by the time we made it to my place... I can pick something up on my way.”
“I can cook.” He shrugged.
“So can I. Sort of.” She frowned.
“Then just come to my place now and we can make dinner and catch up. I’m dying to hear what you’ve been up to all these years.” He seemed sincere which floored her. He stepped closer to her and looked down as she looked up. Everything inside of her lit up for him like it had all those years ago. She wanted to kiss him, but this time, she didn’t dare. “We were both shy people in college. It made conversation extremely painful for me, but I’ve grown out of it and I want to talk to you, Libby. Do you really want to talk to me?”
She nodded and then verbalized the word, “Yes.”
“Okay then. See you in front of my building in twenty?” He winked and walked out the door to the sound of his name and the flash of cameras.
Libby took several deep breaths and once it was quiet, she walked out the same door to the sound of reporters lost in conversation about him, almost oblivious to her. Almost.
“Libby!” Todd Twist, a freelance journalist that often wrote for their travel section called her name. “You were in there? How did you pull that off? They were really strict about screening people to make sure they had privacy about how much was spent on what until the people either made it public on their own social media or tomorrow when they would announce the totals.”
“A friend gave me her ticket.” Libby shrugged. “You’re not missing much. It’s just a regular auction. Instead of paintings and antique tables its shirts and shoes and helmets. I’m over it.”
“Bummer.” He frowned. “I’ll be out here all night waiting to scoop a story and you were in there with all the information and totally unaware of the gold mine you had in your hands.” Todd tisked at her.
“You’re an asshole.” She laughed. “If you were nicer, I might have told you how much the Crosby jersey sold for.”
“Damn.” He laughed as she walked away from him. He called after her as she got in the cab and asked, “Is it too late to apologize?”
“In five hundred words or more by Monday and I may still have something original to share with you.” She had no idea what his gear sold for, but it made her feel good to torment Todd. She waved at her colleague and closed the door. She sat back in the cab after giving him the location and sighed. She felt more like herself in that exchange with Todd. Confident, assure of herself. She needed to hold on to that feeling this time when she spoke to Constantine or did his friends still call him Titus? Well, she wasn’t a close friend and she liked his first name more, so unless he said otherwise, she would call him Constantine.
Her thighs tightened and her core heated. Maybe she would call him Titus since she had masturbated more than once with thoughts of that man manipulating her body and making her come and the name that inevitably slipped past her lips was Constantine. She actually said it out loud once when she was dating a guy and they were making out.
She called out Constantine and he looked at her and asked what she said, but she firmed her grip on him and told him to concentrate. Needless to say neither of those were what he wanted to hear. She sighed. Lonely, was a feeling she was comfortable wearing like a badge of honor. She didn’t need anyone. Still, a part of her longed to know what this man had become in the years between them.