I Went to My School Friend’s Pre-wedding Party — It Turned Into a Surreal Nightmare
Andrea is excited to see Daisy, her effortlessly stylish high school buddy who is getting married, when she returns home for the summer. However, when Daisy discovers that the man in one of Andrea’s pictures is actually her fiancé, her pre-wedding celebration becomes a nightmare.
With windows down and a pleasant breeze that smelled of pine and wildflowers, the drive home had been lengthy but serene. I felt good. Perhaps too good.
A few days ago, Mom texted me, “You received a wedding invitation from Daisy,” and my phone buzzed. It is situated on the counter.
Daisy. Every time she walked past me in the school hallway, my heart would make that little flip. Daisy was the role model for everyone in high school. She could make it look like Paris Fashion Week by donning a hoodie she found at a thrift store.
She remained in our community after graduating, but I eventually attended college out of state.
Our relationship had largely deteriorated to the level of a text-thread friendship. A “Happy Birthday!” here, a “Merry Christmas!” there; courteous check-ins that left little space for genuine dialogue.
She was getting married now. She was, of course. She responded immediately after I texted her, even though I hadn’t expected a response.
“Yes, girl! At last, Caleb made a proposal. so that all of my old pals may attend my summer wedding. You’d better show up.”
It was the type of message that gave the impression that we had been in constant communication. I was immediately drawn back into her orbit after that.
I was virtually vibrating by the time I arrived into my folks’ driveway. The house was exactly the same, yet it seemed smaller than I had remembered.
After my parents gave me a few hesitant hugs, I changed into my finest “I’m not trying too hard” attire and went to the neighborhood pub because I wasn’t ready to spend the night there.
Ron and I met there.
Leaning over a pool table, he was lining up a shot as if it were an easy task. Sharp smile, dark hair, and that tiny sparkle in his eye as if he understood a joke no one else did. He noticed that I had just placed an order for a drink.
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He tilted his head toward the table and said, “Want me to teach you a trick shot?”
I responded, “Depends,” and threw back a gulp of my beverage. “You any good at it?”
He smiled broadly and offered a pool cue. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”
The banter we exchanged during our few rounds was as acerbic as the whiskey I should not have ordered. With his hands guiding mine just enough to send a tiny spark down my arm, he once leaned in close to demonstrate how to angle the cue.
His voice was warm as a campfire, low in my ear. He raised his hands in feigned surrender when I hit the shot.
He crinkled his eyes at the corners and murmured, “All right, I’m impressed.”
As the evening went on, we didn’t discuss our occupations or last names, and we most surely didn’t exchange phone numbers. It was simply one of those evenings that stand alone flawlessly.
He kissed me good night at my car, and I added, “Maybe I’ll see you around,” much later.
“Maybe,” he had said, his smiles languid and his confidence arrogant.
That weekend, I saw Ron once again, and we had a wonderful evening together. It appeared that I had discovered a passionate summer partner. I had no idea at the time that it would become a catastrophe.
During a pre-wedding girls’ night at Daisy’s house, everything went south. For once, I didn’t feel like I had to make a lot of effort to blend in, and girls were draped on the couches like if we were filming a Vogue spread.
Daisy clapped her hands and declared, “All right, confession time,” after we had had around two cocktails. The worst dating tale. I’ll get started.
I anticipated the typical ghostings, strange Tinder dates, and maybe the unexpected appearance of someone’s ex. I had a better story, though, when it came to me.
I responded, “Okay, not a bad story, but definitely unforgettable,” as I looked through my phone. “I met this man in a bar the first night back. Completely adorable, and yes, I did snap a photo.”
I turned my screen to show them after tapping on it. The response was immediate. With eyes that pierced mine in a glare that felt like a scorching judgment, Daisy’s face hardened.
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“Where did you say you met him?” She spoke in a very thin voice.
At that moment, I sensed the steady creep of something negative. “The local bar. “Why?”
She stated bluntly, “But… but he’s my fiancé,” with each sentence becoming more incisive.
The place fell silent like a bomb. Expecting her to smile and tell me it was a joke, I half-laughed. Her gaze, however, remained fixed on mine. My ribs began to claw up in panic.
“No, Daisy. No way. Ron is his name. He made no mention of—”
“Don’t,” she yelled, her voice breaking like glass. “Avoid lying to me while you’re standing there. My Caleb, that’s him!”
She stood up and began to pace as her voice increased. As if we were two stray cats preparing to fight, the other girls watched, their eyes darting between us and their lips pinched shut. Daisy whirled on me, something raw and terrible twisting her features.
She yelled, “You RUINED my wedding,” her eyes gleaming like glass fragments. “Andrea, you are abhorrent. Leave.”
I made an effort. I tried to explain, God. “I had no idea! Ron, he told me, was his name. I had no idea, Daisy.
However, nothing was transmitted. With blazing cheeks and all eyes on me like lasers, I snatched up my bag. Before I reached my car, tears were streaming down my face as I staggered out the door and into the night.
I was devastated and startled. Three days later, I had my answers, but I still didn’t understand how everything fell apart so quickly.
My phone buzzed when I was resting in bed. I got a call from Daisy.
I kept my hand over the screen. I considered leaving the phone on voicemail because I was positive she was just phoning to pick on me once more, but a foolish, hopeful side of me answered.
“Hey,” I said in a tense voice.
A pause occurred. Daisy then let out a long, leisurely sigh. “I… I’m sorry.”
I was completely stopped by that. “What?”
She said, “It turns out that Caleb has a twin.” Her voice broke into a weary, resentful laugh. “Ron. They decided it would be amusing to keep it a secret from me until now. It seems like they intended to play a practical joke during the wedding.
Waves of her words washed over me. All I could do for a moment was sit there with my heart pounding in my ears.
“Are you serious right now?”
The words “Dead serious,” she whispered. “Andrea, I snapped at him for betraying me. I was considering calling off the wedding. Then he says he’ll prove he has a twin and takes out his phone. His doppelgänger appears at my door the next thing I know.
Her breath came out sharply. “I was so mad I couldn’t see straight.”
“Daisy, you screamed at me.”
“I know,” she murmured, now quietly. “I’m positive I did. I’m phoning you now for that reason. I apologize for my words. I apologize for everything. You were correct.
Her voice was so little and delicate, like if she had just fallen apart from the experience.
I tried to suppress the surge of emotions by pressing my palm against my eyes.
“Okay,” I said in a whisper. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t—not yet, not entirely. But I could let it be sufficient for Daisy.
“Please confirm that you plan to attend the wedding. I truly hope you’ll be there.
“I’ll be there, Daisy.”
I wore my finest dress when I arrived. Daisy gave me a hug as if we had never been apart, which may have been her superpower—making you feel like you belong.
I saw Ron later at the reception, leaning on the bar with his hands in his pockets and that same slow smile tugging at his face. His eyebrows shot up in faux surprise when he noticed me.
With my arms folded, I approached. “You owe me an apology, Ron.”
His eyes were big with a phony innocence as he blinked. “For what?”
I twitched my lips and murmured, “Don’t play dumb,” “Your and Caleb’s little game nearly destroyed this wedding, and I was your unwitting accessory.”
He raised his hands in submission. “I would have if I had known you knew Daisy. I think I may have worn a name tag.
“Real helpful,” I retorted. But both he and I were grinning.
He looked at me and then down at his phone. “Want my number this time, or do we keep playing fate?”
“Give me your phone,” I ordered, holding out my hand. I began typing as soon as he placed it in my palm.
His words were as warm as the summer air. “Smart move,” he murmured. “You seem like the kind of person I shouldn’t let slip away.”
My cheeks began to flame as I looked up at him. Perhaps he was correct.
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