Shopwrecked with You

Chapter One: Soul mate or Soul hate?

Kobe Bryant.

Check.

Steve Nash.

Check.

Derrick Rose.

Check.

Chris Paul, Dwayne Wade, LeBron James.

Check. Check. Check.

My photo album filled with autographs and pictures with NBA basketball players was starting to overflow. In my 17 years of existence, I had a total of 50 autographs/pictures with famous players.

I smiled as I browsed through the pictures. A lot of things are not publicized about these superstars, good and bad alike.

You might be wondering how I was able to get these, as a die-hard basketball fan would call them, "gifts straight from heaven." Well, my dad works as a field reporter so he gets VIP tickets to each game he reports on. Since it's just the both of us, I get to go to the games and even meet the players. The ironic thing about all of this, as marvelous as it can all appear, is that I love boxing and not basketball, honestly running around with a ball doesn't spark any interest to me whatsoever. I'm the type of girl who would rather punch than dribble.

"Kristen Ashley Brooke. Do I have to count to 10 to get you down here for breakfast?" my father's voice, Craig Brooke, brought me back to reality, "One. Two!"

I can't believe he's literally counting.

"Coming dad!" I shouted, "You don't need to count, seriously I'm not a kid anymore."

"Not only are you a heavy sleeper, you're also so slow in getting ready." by the sound of his voice I knew he was teasing me.

I rolled my eyes.

Heavy footsteps were quickly approaching my room. There was a loud bang as my bedroom door collided with the wall, "Hey there Krissy. Ready for the first day of school?"

My best friend and only friend ever since my dad and I moved to Pensacola, Florida greeted me with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Dakota," I gave my friend a quick hug, "and might I add that you look absolutely stunning today."

"Awww thanks Krissy." Dakota replied squeezing me more, "Go and get dressed. I don't think someone can be anymore mad than your dad is down there."

"You're totally right. Give me 2 minutes." I replied.

"I'll wait downstairs with your dad. Don't be too stunning that I'd need to wear my sunglasses to shield my precious eyes from your beauty, k?"

I burst out laughing, "Just go down already, Coco."

Looking at my reflection in my mirror, I thought about how different I was from my best friend. Dakota had golden blonde hair with light blue eyes. She was the head cheerleader of McKinley High, the high school I've attended for two years since we moved here. Smart and beautiful, Dakota was labeled as the Madonna of McKinley High.

And what was I called you may ask?

Boxer girl. Boxer girl. I believe that needs to be emphasized. “Boxer” because the student body saw the uniform we had in the Boxing Club to look like boxers for guys, and of course because I boxed. I didn't really hate my nickname that much. Boxing was my life to the point that I didn't care about what others called me.

I brushed my auburn brown hair that fell all the way to my waist. Unlike Dakota's light blue eyes, I had greenish grey eyes.

Dakota was sexy and had the right curves in the right places, while I was muscular and lacked those curves. Not body builder type but just really fit. You know those pictures fitness gyms put up in order to motivate people to work hard? Well, I looked like that. I even modeled for one photo shoot one summer. I just really lacked in the chest department to the point that they had to Photoshop my boobs to make them look bigger. I actually found that funny.