Beyond The Court

4. In the shadows

*Kesley's POV from during the game*

The gym is packed, just like it always is when Izzi plays. I stand in the back of the bleachers, hidden among the crowd, where she won't notice me. I haven't missed a single game, even though she doesn't know that. I promised her when we were younger that I'd be at every one, cheering her on, and I've kept that promise—even when we drifted apart.

The buzzer sounds, and the game begins. Izzi's in her element, moving like she owns the court. She always has. Watching her now, the way she dominates the game, it's hard not to feel proud of her. She's a force. Strong, fast, unstoppable. There's a reason she's the top player in the country. Everyone sees it. Everyone knows it.

But I see more than that. I see the way she's changed.

It's not just the way she plays—it's how she carries herself. She used to smile more, back when it was just us, when we were best friends. She used to laugh at the smallest things, like when I'd mess up my cheers on the sidelines, and she'd tease me for being so uncoordinated. But now? She barely cracks a smile, even when she's tearing the other team apart.

She's still incredible. But she's different.

I shift uncomfortably, trying to focus on the game instead of the ache in my chest. I shouldn't be thinking like this. I shouldn't be here, really, but I can't stop myself. I come to every game, just like I promised, even though we haven't spoken in years. I've tried to move on, to bury the feelings I've had for so long.

It's just... hard.

Izzi scores another three-pointer, and the crowd goes wild. I cheer along with them, but it's quieter, more reserved. My new friends are scattered around the gym, but they don't know I'm here for her. They think I'm just here for the game, for the school spirit. I use them as a distraction, the same way they use me for theirs. It works, most of the time. At least it keeps me from thinking too much about what I can't have.

What I won't let myself have.

It's easier that way, or at least that's what I tell myself. If I deny it hard enough, maybe the feelings will go away. Maybe I can finally let her go.

But then I watch her on the court, fierce and determined, and it all comes rushing back. That same old feeling, the one I've had since we were kids. I can't ignore it, no matter how hard I try. I loved her then, and part of me still does. But I can't disappoint my family. I can't be the girl who breaks their perfect image by being... gay.

I hate that word. I hate what it means for me, what it could mean for my life, my family. They wouldn't understand. They wouldn't get it. They'd never see me the same way again.

So, I push it down. I ignore the way my heart races when I watch Izzi play. I ignore the way I still think about what we had, what we could've been. It's better this way. It has to be.

Izzi scores again, breaking through two defenders like it's nothing. She's incredible tonight, like always. And even though we're not close anymore, I still find myself cheering for her. My voice gets lost in the noise of the crowd, but I don't care. I'm still here for her, just like I promised.

Halfway through the game, I see her glance at the stands. She looks up toward the spot where I used to sit—front row, right next to her parents. I see the flicker of something on her face, but then it's gone. She turns away before she can see me, hidden in the back with all the strangers who have no idea who I am to her. Or who I used to be.

I bite my lip, fighting back the urge to walk down there, to let her know I'm still here. But I don't. I stay in the shadows, like I always do now.

The game ends, and we win. Of course, we do. How could we lose with Izzi on our side? She's a beast, the best player anyone's ever seen. The crowd floods the court, and I see her teammates surround her, laughing and celebrating. She's quiet, like always now. She gives them half-smiles, nods her head, but I can tell her heart's not in it.

She's not the same.

I wonder if I'm the reason she changed. I wonder if it's because of me, because I left. Because I couldn't handle how I felt about her. Or maybe she moved on, and I'm the one stuck in the past. Either way, it doesn't matter. She's Izzi—the girl everyone wants but no one can have. Including me.

As the gym empties out, I slip out the back, careful not to be seen. I don't want her to know I'm still coming to every game. I don't want her to think I'm holding onto something we both know is gone. But I can't stay away. I can't break that promise.

I stand by the doors for a moment, watching her leave with her parents. I see the way her shoulders sag when she thinks no one's looking. She's so strong out there, but I know there's more going on inside. I can see it, even if no one else does.

But what can I do? We're not those girls anymore, the ones who shared everything. I can't reach out. I won't. 

I turn away before she can catch me staring, heading off to meet up with my new friends, back to pretending everything's fine.

Because it has to be. It's easier that way.