In college, I often saw Judd Sylver in the library. He was a cool, broody type of guy who reminded me of a deeply tortured soul who might write poetry.

He was very different from the boy I met in third grade on National Make a New Friend Day when I passed him a note, asking if he wanted to be my new friend: Check yes or no.

(I’m a bit obsessed with calendar days.)

He was also vastly different from the young man who stood me up after I asked him to his prom.

Twenty years later, I can let bygones be bygones, especially when he rescues me from a bad date.

Then I witness him breaking up with his girlfriend which resulted in a sticky coffee drink on his chiseled cheeks and ice cubes on his fine-fitting jeans.

I offered him a napkin.

Hey, once a friend, always a friend, right? *insert sarcasm*

However, Judd takes us to the next level at my mother’s garden party, where a misunderstanding occurs with a teeny tiny slip of the tongue and a precious ring on my finger.

And suddenly, I’m Judd’s fiancée. 

Fake or not, things are about to get a little too real with my old friend.