Disclaimer: None of the NBA teams, songs, name brands, ect. mentioned in this story belong to me. This is purely for entertainment and there is no copyright infringement intended.

Chapter One:
Stranded

A collective gasp rang out in the arena when the point guard for the Boston Celtics jacked up a three-pointer with no one around. The Celtics were down by two, and, if this shot went in, they would take the lead with only a second left. The ball bounced off of the orange rim and fell into one of the Bulls player's hands as the buzzer sounded.

"And that's it! The Bulls win!" The announcer shouted enthusiastically.

The roar in the arena was almost deafening when the final buzzer rang, and it was set in stone that the home team had won. Everyone around me stood up and began to file out, but I had to stay and wait for my best friend, Hannah, who was staying on the court to interview the Bulls' power forward, Dwyane Henley for one of the local Chicago stations. I could see the two of them conversing for the camera, but I couldn't hear what they were saying, since the area around me was too loud to hear anything at the moment.

When I saw her thank Dwyane, and he walked away from her towards the Chicago Bulls locker room, I got up and began to make my way down towards the court to talk to her for a minute before I left, seeing what she wanted to do tonight. Her blonde curls bounced behind her when she trotted over to me, wearing the same big smile that she always did for the camera.

Hannah was perfect, in every sense of the word. She was drop dead gorgeous, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders in loose curls, her icy blue eyes nearly see-through, and her body the type that you would see in a Victoria's Secret catalogue. And, aside from the fact that she was beautiful, she also had a fun, friendly personality. Even her name was perfect. Hannah Elizabeth Thorne.

Me? Simple was the best word used to describe me. I had a generic body, a generic face, and just an even, down to earth personality. The only thing that was interesting about me was my name, Ramiele, or Remi, as everyone called me. Apparently, when my parents named me, they didn't think I would be the 'second choice girl'.

The 'second choice girl' was a title that I had made up for myself when I began to see a pattern in how things panned out for me most of the time. I was the friend that people called when their other friends bailed on them, and, for guys, I was the rebound girl, or the girl they used to make someone else jealous. I only had about two serious boyfriends in my twenty-three years of life. There was Anthony, who only broke up with me because we were going to college on opposite sides of the country, and John, who I just grew apart from after almost two years. Other than that, I had a few flings here and there, but nothing notable. And, nowadays, I was too busy with my job, an assistant veterinarian at one of the biggest animal hospitals in Chicago, to even think about relationships.

"Hey, Remi!" Hannah called to me excitedly when I reached the first row of seats, "How awesome was that game? Are you totally grateful that I hooked you up with these tickets?"

"Yeah," I laughed lightly, "I guess it pays to have a best friend with connections."

Hannah laughed as well, flipping her hair over her shoulder with a smile.

"So I heard some of the guys talking outside the locker room, and they say they're going to Excalibur for Dwyane Henley's birthday next Wednesday," she told me, an excited smile on her face, "this may be my chance to bag him, girl."

I had to laugh a little bit at her enthusiasm over the subject. Hannah had wanted to date an athlete since we were in high school, and, ever since she got this job, that dream became much more realistic, since she was around them all the time. The only problem I had with it was that she wasn't going to be dating someone because she cared them, she was only going to be dating them because of who they were. That just didn't sit right with me. I myself never wanted to date an athlete. It seemed like too much spotlight. But that was just me.

"And I want you to come with me," she added in, after a moment of silence, "maybe you can bag yourself a hot basketball player too," she stopped me before I could speak, "I know, I know. You're busy with your vet stuff."

"This new job has been pretty hectic," I told her honestly.

"I didn't think it was that hard just petting some animals all day," she shrugged.

Since I wasn't an actual veterinarian, and I was only an assistant, she just assumed that I just sat around and pet dogs for a living. That really wasn't the case at all, and sometimes it really got under my skin that she wrote off my job as some easy, 'anybody can do it', thing. It wasn't like being a sportscaster was equivalent to being a heart surgeon either. If I wanted to, I could say she just smiled into a camera and talked to athletes all day for a living.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go home and get changed," she told me, glancing at my Michael Jordan throwback Chicago Bulls jersey and jeans with a slight look of disgust, "you should probably do the same before we go out."

"I will," I told her, as she waved before turning her back to me, "I'll call you once I'm ready to go."

We both went our separate ways to leave the arena, her able to get out easily from the court, and me having to trek through the entire place to get to the exit. Even thought she drove me crazy sometimes, the girl was still my best friend, and I still wanted to go out with her tonight. If there was one thing she was good at, it was having a good time.

As I drove down one of the smaller roads on my way out of the city, it was pitch black, some of the streetlights seeming to have gone out. And, since it was a smaller road, there were barely any other cars there, so I had to turn on my brights in order to see in front of me. A little ways away, I could see the taillights of a car pulled over on the side of the road, and someone standing outside looking slightly distressed.

When I got closer, the headlights of my car illuminated him a bit, and I could see him wave to get my attention. I was going to keep going, since getting out of the car and helping someone on the side of the road was a surefire way of getting abducted, but when I got close and slowed down, I realized that this wasn't just any old person stranded on the side of the road. It was Dwyane Henley, leaning against the car door of his broken down BMW.