A Semi-True Story

Here's another brief sample of a story idea I had...very different from my other one. But I got inspired recently and just wanted to jot something down in case it turns into something more:

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It was already a perfect day. I leapt from my bed, charged with excitement and looked out my window at the early spring morning. The sun warmed my face as I looked around at the daffodils blooming freely on the lawn. I turned my gaze toward the bedroom door and the stunning, long, white dress hanging from it. The silver beading glistened back at me as if to return my adoring gaze. We were made for each other.
It was all in hand - all I had to do was walk down the aisle. The flowers, the church, the food, the music… the groom. Suddenly, panic gripped me. My stomach turned uneasily while sweat dewed on my forehead and palms. I felt dizzy, suffocated… trapped.
“Um, mom?” I said into the phone with certain hesitance in my voice. No, not hesitance - determination. I had decided. I can’t do this.
“I don’t think I love him. I can’t… I just can’t.” My voice shook with the impending tears. I almost dropped the phone my hand was trembling so hard.
“Honey, you have to. It’s all been paid for. People have come from out of town. You can’t let all those people down.”
“But, I don’t even know him! Not really.”
“You’ll learn to love him.”
“Mom! Please! Don’t make me!”
“I’m sorry, dear. It’s done.”
I sat up quickly as an unconscious force ripped me from the nightmare. I was okay. It wasn’t my wedding day. I wasn’t engaged. I wasn’t even dating anyone. My mom would never make me marry someone I didn’t want to. That’s silly. My pulse slowed and I sighed in deep relief.
The wedding nightmare had been haunting me semi-annually since the age of nineteen. I was now thirty. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to get married. I was just terrified of making a mistake. It was always the same… everything was perfect, except the guy. This was not going to happen in real life. I was quite determined.
Luckily, the nightmare would not be possible with Nick. He was the perfect man. The way his untidy hair fell over his piercing blue eyes, the way he always had just the right amount of stubble around his strikingly chiseled jaw line, the sound of his voice, everything about him made me all melty on the inside. Surely, this was true love.
It was just too bad that Nick didn’t seem aware of that himself.
Nick was unrequited crush #5 of the past decade. I had a good feeling about this one too. He did smile at me the other day. That’s something…. Right? Okay, so I admit it. I’m not the best judge of what’s right for me. Jack was proof of that. He was unrequited crush #4, and perhaps the most creative in his method of torture in regards to my emotions. He’d led me on for a good six months before deciding that a girl from Chicago was a better match for him. They were exclusive within a week.
I didn’t know why I did it. My friends were unbelievably frustrated with me, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to be single anymore. Truly, I didn’t. But it’s not love if you don’t have to fight for it, right?