I hadn't known Isiah forever—just since we both joined the NFL. But sometimes, it felt like we'd known each other since middle school, like we were always meant to be teammates. There was this immediate connection between us, a friendship that grew quickly, like it had been waiting to happen. From the moment we met, he was easy to be around. His energy pulled everyone in, but with me, it was different. I noticed things about him that went beyond just being friends.It started out small. Maybe it was the way he smiled after a big play, or how he'd slap my shoulder when I nailed a field goal, like I'd just saved the whole game. I tried to tell myself it was nothing, just admiration for a guy who was incredible at what he did. But over time, those feelings became something more—something I didn't want to admit to myself.I didn't want it to be true. Because, let's be real—how could it be? Growing up, everything around me was about being tough, being "manly." I'd learned to hide how I felt, especially after what happened at conversion camp. I wasn't about to risk putting myself out there again, not when I had so much to lose. So I stayed quiet, buried those feelings as deep as I could. But the more time we spent together, the harder it became to ignore. Isiah wasn't just a teammate. He wasn't just the guy who could run faster than anyone else or take a hit and keep going. He was someone I cared about. Someone I thought about too much. And that scared the hell out of me.It wasn't until he got hurt that everything started bubbling to the surface. Seeing him go down like that—it wrecked me. I'd seen injuries before, but this one? This felt personal. Maybe because it was him, or maybe because I realized how much he meant to me. More than I'd ever let myself believe.I didn't visit him right away after the injury. It was too much, too soon, and I didn't trust myself not to crack. But I couldn't avoid it forever. So, after a few days, I went to see him at the hospital. When I walked in, Isiah was sitting up, flipping through channels on the TV like nothing had happened. Typical Zay—acting like a broken leg was no big deal."Yo, kicker!" he called out, grinning when he saw me. "Took you long enough."I shrugged, trying to keep it casual. "Yeah, been busy. You know how it is."He rolled his eyes, laughing. "Busy watching the team mess up without me, you mean."I chuckled, but it felt fake. Being around him wasn't the same anymore—not since I'd accepted what I'd been avoiding for so long. Every moment I spent with him now felt heavy, like I was carrying this giant secret I couldn't tell him.We talked for a while, just like we always did. He joked about his recovery, about how he'd be back on the field before anyone knew it. But I could see the doubt in his eyes. This wasn't just another injury. He was scared, even if he didn't want to admit it.At one point, Isiah looked over at me, his brow furrowed. "You've been kinda quiet, Harrison. What's going on? You good?"I hesitated, my stomach tightening. "Yeah. I'm fine."But I wasn't. And he could tell. That night, when I got home, everything hit me at once. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the weight of it all pressing down on me. I had to face it. No more running from it.Here it is, the truth: I have a crush on Isiah. I've had a crush on him for as long as I can remember. Even though we only met in the NFL, it feels like we've known each other forever. Like middle school buddies who grew up together, except I wasn't supposed to feel this way about him. But I do.The worst part? He has no idea. And I can't tell him. Not now, not ever. Because if he found out—if he knew how I really felt—I'm scared of what it would do to us. To our friendship, to the team, to everything we've built.So, for now, it stays a secret. Just another thing I bury deep inside, pretending it doesn't exist. Because that's all I can do.
