Page 17 of The Progressions

“I don’t mean him in particular, I meant in general,” she said quickly, but I got a feeling that she did mean him, exactly him. “He was probably just tired. Don’t you think?”

She’d been right and I really wasn’t the person to ask about this, but I gave it my best shot. “Maybe you should ask him about it. He could tell you why.”

“Do know how embarrassing it is to be turned down like that? To be naked, and he pushes away your hands and says to leave him the hell alone?”

“Oh, Iva…”

“He just got home. Talk to you later,” she said, and hung up.

I sat for a moment, trying to think of ways that I could make her feel better and/or hurt her a-hole of a boyfriend, but then I had to get home myself. I checked out the window to make sure that Oren’s car was gone so I could avoid him, and Tyler’s SUV wasn’t there yet, either. I went and put a note on his door, saying that we needed to talk, and I texted the same thing.

But even after I’d cleaned up from dinner and prepped for the next day, I hadn’t heard from him yet. Things only got worse the longer you put them off, so again, I texted the Woodsmen player who was now in my contacts. “Hi,” I wrote. “I got quite a bit done in your kitchen and we need to discuss your girlfriend’s underwear.”

It took several more hours for him to respond and I was in bed, nearly asleep, by the time he wrote back. “What?”

“The kitchen is fully stocked and I unpacked pots, pans, and everything else I found. Your former landlord in CA says that stuff was yours, not his. So it’s all done.”

“What about the underwear?” he wrote.

“I meant Shay Galton’s thongs and bras,” I answered. “Her lingerie.” Then I told the whole story. I said that I had asked Oren, our maintenance man, to help me because some of the stuff was too heavy to deal with alone. I winced, but I went ahead and also related the part about how he was supposed to have been breaking down boxes, but I saw him having a private moment with the undergarments.

And then Tyler didn’t answer for a while, which I understood. It was really gross and upsetting, and he was probably trying to get a grip on it. “I’ll have to quit working for you,” I wrote.

“Why?”

“Because Oren could tell on me. He could tell my real bosses that I’m doing another job at the same time as I’m supposed to be doing only the condo stuff, and I’d get fired,” I explained.

“Who would believe the guy who got caught with a thong down his pants? I’ll tell them that you don’t work for me, that he’s a fucking liar who was jerking off with my girlfriend’s stuff.”

I read that and shook my head. “But I was the one who let Oren into your apartment to do that,” I countered.

“You don’t have to quit.”

“Why?” I typed quickly, and waited for a while before he responded again.

“Because I’ll back you up,” he finally wrote. “I’m eating the food you got.”

“Good. I’m really sorry about Oren.”

“Come to the training building tomorrow,” Tyler wrote.

Huh?Did he mean that he would lie for me, and that I should keep doing the double-dip? Where did he want me to go—the Woodsmen practice facility?

But he didn’t respond again, no matter what else I wrote. I thought that I understood the location he’d meant, anyway. The team held all their summer practices at a separate building, notthe stadium. It was kind of in the middle of nowhere, a big, ugly place that looked a lot like an orange prison. I’d spent plenty of time there because fans always hung around outside the gate to watch the players come and go and to get autographs. I had been one of those fans on many occasions, screaming for guys like Davis Blake and Knox Lynch, holding out my autograph book to whoever would slow down enough to sign it.

Tyler must have meant for me to go inside, though. Despite how bad things had been with Oren and with Iva’s sad story, I got very excited.

I told my father about it the next morning—I told him about my visit to the Woodsmen practice facility, not any of the other stuff. He certainly didn’t need to worry about me losing my job. “I’m not sure why Tyler wants me to go, unless there’s something that needs my organizational help. Maybe his locker?” I asked skeptically.

“Don’t you go into the locker room,” Dad ordered.

“Plenty of people are in there besides the players,” I said. “There are journalists, photographers, and Woodsmen staff. The guys aren’t walking around naked.” I didn’t think so, but maybe they were. Anyway, I had already viewed Tyler’s naked body. I thought about that, as I had quite a bit since the day that I’d gone into his bathroom and seen him so clearly. Then, he’d gotten out and held up that little t-shirt that didn’t cover him for crap. He still wasn’t the best about keeping clothes on but the bathroom doors could shut now, since I’d partially emptied the bedroom. I’d also bought him towels so he could also wrap himself in those…it was kind of a shame.

“Kasia.”

I looked across the table, embarrassed. Couldn’t I keep my thoughts clear of Tyler’s amazing butt and those pecs…good grief. Couldn’t I keep my mind clear of that for the fifteen minutes it took for us to eat breakfast? I could, I told myself. “Do you want to come with me?” I suggested. “I can write and ask, and then you could see the inside of the practice facility, too.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m feeling tired.”

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