Mr. Fiancé(150)

"Hart's a good player, and in the latter half of the season, he showed a lot more maturity to go with that amazing talent," the first analyst objected, "but I don't agree with the hype of him being a top ten pick. I'm not saying he's not a great tight end, but with the current needs of the teams in the top ten, they'd be better to spend the money and the picks on the bigger issues like quarterbacks, the big linemen, and linebackers. I wouldn't be all that surprised if Hart falls all the way to the second round, and maybe the third if his Pro Day isn't as successful as he's hoping."

"That ain't going to happen," Carrie says next to me, her inner fire showing. "I'll kick your ass if it does."

"Yes, Ma'am!" I retort with a mock salute, which earns a smile from everyone. "Speaking of kicking my ass, shouldn't we get to work? I mean, watching this is nice and all, but I need to get my work done too."

Carrie gives me a kiss, and we leave the coaches' office, going down to the weight room. If there has been anything that has been good about my rehab, it's been the opportunity to work with Carrie again on a daily basis, both in rehabbing my arm and in getting everything else ready to go. Except for the skill work that I've been working with Coach Thibs on, Carrie's been my main trainer, spending two to three hours a day with me. And like over the summer, she goes rep for rep with me.

We get changed and set up the safety squat bar, a device I hate with a passion but with my elbow screwed up, I have to use. "This thing always knocks me off balance," I gripe as I set up for the first warm-up set. "Why'd they make it this way anyway?"

"Precisely to knock you off balance," Carrie replies with a laugh. "If you get off balance, you have to keep your form tight. You can't just bounce and momentum your way out of the hole."

"No shit," I grunt as I start the reps. It's not too bad at first. The bar's only sixty pounds, but as we add plates, it gets harder and harder. I have to keep my stomach tight and my hips under control, or else, I start to fall backward. We work side by side in adjacent squat racks, and after I leave, my legs feel like they're about to catch on fire.

"What's next?"

“Kettlebell swings. We're going to up the weight, thirty-five pounds this time. Just remember to keep the hand palm downward, and it'll be fine on the elbow."

I nod and wait while Carrie goes through her final set, gritting her teeth and grunting the last few reps, and it's amazingly sexy, especially with her ass stretching her shorts tight each time she goes down. Watching Carrie work, motivation to push harder is easy to find.

We get through the rest of the workout, including the five minutes of hell at the end that Carrie deceptively calls 'high-intensity intervals’. I call them five minutes of hell, but I know that in terms of creating football-based endurance, there isn't much better. As the moon rises behind the hills in the east, I'm wiped, but still, the little worm that's been twisting in my guts since seeing the special on the Combine won't let go. We go back to the apartment, and Carrie breaks out the massage oil, a nightly treat that both of us enjoy since I always return the favor, which usually leads to the bed.

"You're tense tonight," Carrie says as she rubs the eucalyptus-laced oil into my back. "What's wrong, babe?"

I chuckle, thinking about how the first time I ever called Carrie that, I nearly killed our relationship. Now, we use it, but only when we're having fun with each other, trying to get the other person to answer a difficult question. "Sorry. Just having a hard time letting go today."

"I noticed. It showed in the sprints and jumps at the end there. Even with the squats we did, you were off."

I nod and lay my head down on the pillow. Maybe it's not a professional massage table, but having the woman you love rub soothing oil into your back should be done on a bed, not a table anyway. "Yeah, I know. I guess I'm just worried. All that talk I did, I'm still worried that I'm going to screw up come Pro Day. We've only got a few weeks."

"And your plan is put together by the best of the best in the country, and you're right on schedule," Carrie replies, her thumbs working magic on my spine as they work in alternating outward circles. "What's really bothering you?"

I sigh, the tenseness inside mixing with the outer muscular relaxation in an unpleasant blend. I know what Carrie's doing. She's trying to massage my mind as much as she is my body, and it's coming out. Months together, and I'm still shocked at the strange mix of biology, exercise science, psychology, and just in general bad assedness Carrie's picked up in her studies so far. “This is the first time I'm really operating without a net?"