Chapter One – Chance Meeting

"That even in the smallest events of our lives, there's no such thing as a coincidence." – Haruki Murakami (redone)

Summary: Twenty-seven times she's been down that aisle. And not a single once was it her wedding. But, maybe just this one time, it's okay to not marry Prince Charming. Austin&Ally. Auslly. AU.

Inspiration: Isn't it obvious? TA-DA! It's the movie 27 Dresses! I legit love that movie. & I think, with Ally's uptight personality, it would be so perfect for Auslly! Of course, there's a few differences to fit the show, & to fit my liking. But I hope I did the movie justice! & my dear God, there's a playlist of songs that would be so perfect for Auslly & those songs, too, inspired me! Yay for inspiration! :)

A/N: I'm back with another fic! & before people start pointing their fingers at me for the lack of fic updates...I have an excuse. God that sounds terrible, but you all know I've been moaning about my lack of inspiration for the past few months. Or whatever. But, anyway, I'm not gonna update 'Like a Playboy' anytime soon...I'm sorry. As for 'Promises in Secrecy', I swear I'll try to power through it! This fic though, is my number one, top priority. I'm gonna update weekly again, just on this, every Friday! & I think this will go really well 'coz I know what the exact plot is, I know where the story will go, & I really have fun writing it! So, you can expect a lot of updates in the next few weeks! I hope you guys don't hate me for my lack of updates though... I swear I'll try to finish all my unfinished fics once I'm done with this one. Okay? Okay. & if you loved 'Like a Playboy', you might like this better :) I think my writing got better but, I'll let you guys be the judge of that! So, read & review & enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own neither Austin & Ally or 27 Dresses.

-x-

The flowers were ready, all looking pretty and colorful, decorating the small pathway towards the altar. The bridesmaids all lined up behind each other, wearing short and pretty pastel dresses. Men wore suits and tuxes, the colors all ranging from darkest of gray and black, to the simple white. And the wedding march sounded graceful and elegant, as the walk down the aisle began.

Everything was in place. Everything was all perfect. Except, I'm not the bride.

Sure, I did most of the work. From choosing the assorted flavor of the wedding cake, to the seating arrangements, to looking for the perfect priest to marry the bride and groom, to finding that one pair of shoes that'll match the beautiful wedding dress — down to everything else.

But, that doesn't change the fact that I'm not the one who gets to cut the cake in half, with the love of my life, or be the one people came in for to see off and get married. And I'm also not the one who's gonna say those wonderful and everlasting vows in front of that priest, wearing that amazing, puffy, white wedding dress, with those silver high heeled shoes.

Oh, no. It's not me.

All I am, is the pathetic bridesmaid, sitting right at the very edge of the front row, looking up at the two people about to embark on their happily-ever-after. There I sat, wearing my pastel pink dress, silently hoping — wishing and wanting — for me to be the one up there; to be the one to look into the eyes of the one guy I'll forever love, and swear to him, the promise of 'til death do us part.

And so I watched — and carefully listened — to the bride looking deep into the eyes of her soon-to-be-husband, awaiting for the priest to finally finish saying those ever-so-famous wedding vows. And as the deed came finally done, she softly whispered towards the man at the other end of the altar, the long-awaited "I do" of the day.

"And do you, Renzy, take thee, Claire, to be your lawful wedded wife; to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, 'til death do you part?" The priest repeats the vows as the groom, softly takes his soon-to-be-wife's hand, kissing it gently before speaking.

"I do." He says, smiling like a dope with sparkling eyes. "I really do."

And here it comes, as the priest smiles and nods in approval, of the wonderful love that he has witnessed, take another leap forward to fate, the cliché of, "You may now, kiss the bride."

And kiss the bride the groom did; with Renzy slowly tilting up Claire's chin, before leaning in to gently press his lips against hers — beginning a full-blown make-out session. This has just got the crowd standing and shouting cheers of congratulations, and rude whistling noises of idiocy — most coming from the happy and proud family of the bride, and the immature guy friends of the groom.

I stood up, finding so much pride and satisfaction in the work I've done. I watched the whole scene before me unfold, as I saw those two people — strangers, they may have once been, to me — be off and married, in their very own fairytale happy ending. And I loved the sight of it.

So, slowly, and as silently as I could, I started to sneak my way out of the church. My heels clicked against the tiled floor, but the voices of the people chattering away drowned it out. I hid behind the big, long, creamy yellow curtains, that hung by the large open windows of the church. My heart beat fast and hard against my rib cage, as I tried my best to escape through the crowd of people, making their way opposite me, towards the bride and the groom. And swiftly getting through, out the door, I hurriedly ran out of the church gates.

Grabbing my hidden pink Chanel tote bag, by the gate, I took off my pink high-heeled shoes, and slammed open the door of the first cab I found in immediate sight. I threw in them those wretched high heels of mine and, right after, I started to get in myself.

But, what I certainly did not know was that, someone has been in here all along. And they, of course, were so unfortunate to be the victim of my most wreckless and recent actions.

"The hell?" Said person snapped at me, his hands roughly rubbing the sore spot of his forehead, whilst his eyes shut close in obvious annoyance.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed in sudden shock, startled by the presence before me. "Did I just hit you with my shoe?"

Peeking one eye open — I could see the color of dark brown and hazel swirling about in through his iris — he glared at me and spoke, through deep sarcasm and gritted teeth, saying, "Oh, no. Not really."

"I am so, so sorry!" I let out in a shrill and panicked voice, letting myself into the cab to try and touch the sore spot of his forehead.

"Don't touch me!" He snapped once again, even ruder than ever.

And this got me. I mean, sure; I accidentally threw at him my high-heeled shoes, hitting him right at the top of his forehead. But, I never meant to do it! And I've already apologized so, he has no right to still be mad at me!

"I'm sorry sir." I say, as politely and apologetic as I possibly could — with a little bit of venom behind it, of course — while inhaling in a deep breath. "But, I didn't mean it. And I don't like how you're being so rude to me."

"And I don't like your shoes hitting my face." He grunted, finally opening fully both his eyes.

"Excuse me?" I asked, my mouth flying open at his witty little response.

"I said, I don't like your shoes hitting my face." He repeated, his voice laced in annoyance, and his eyes, turning a cloud of dark brown as they glared at me.

"Oh, I heard you!" I snapped back, my face probably turning red from anger — and the fact that I was freezing, with the cab door still open, and the chilly New York air beating down my back.

"Then why'd you ask?" His eyebrow rose up, but his glare into me never faltered.

"It didn't even hit your face!" I exclaimed — completely ignoring his question — with my hands flailing all over the place. "It hit your forehead!"

"And that makes it less painful?" He asks, this time, his voice losing it's irritated tone, replacing it with amusement.

"Yes." I huffed at him, turning to face the other way, my arms folded immaturely against my chest.

"Of course." I heard him say — or chuckle — as I continued to look the other way.

"Bastard." I whispered silently to myself, breathing in air I knew I needed.

I got the reply of silence — barr the sounds of the noisy cars, passing by the busy New York highways — and strangely enough, it bothered me. And I'm sure it wasn't just because I'm not a fan of the quiet — which I really am; I'm a big fan of it! But, there's something eerie and strange about this—

"You're quite sexy when you're pissed." His husky voice breathed down on my neck, making me freeze on the spot.

My breath hitched against my throat, and I felt myself getting tongue tied with sweaty palms, and butterfly-filled stomach. I felt a slight shiver spiraling it's way through my spine.

And it took me a short glance to the left, to finally see what this man — or boy, because he surely acted like one — really looked like. To see past those dark brown eyes, the little whiskey glow of them, covered by strands of bleached blonde hair, that fell perfectly over his forehead. His lips were pinkish red, and they seemed so full and kissable and—

What am I thinking? Shut up Ally.

Finally gaining my senses back, I shouldered him a bit, trying to bring back some of my much needed personal space. I then turned to glare at him, my eyes probably looking dazed with confusion — and lust, but he doesn't need to know that — as I struggled to keep an angry stare.

"Leaving a little early for the wedding?" He asks me, eyebrows arched up in question.

"Just a tad." I muttered, letting go of the glare, finding it useless.

"Pity I just got here." He chuckles again, the obnoxious tone of it ringing through my ear.

"Maybe I'm just lucky." I smiled at him, obviously fake and sugar-coated — and I'm sure he knows that himself — as my eyes held nothing but sure sarcasm.

"And I was gonna ask you to slow dance." With a mocking tone, he shook his head and smirked at me, his eyes twinkling with a little bit of mischief.

"Maybe next time then." I sighed, tired from the argument, my face letting up from that painful smile.

"Maybe." There came the vague tone of his voice, as he started to shuffle his way out of the cab.

He crept pass me, out to my side of the door, before paying the driver — who, I'm sure, has been silently watching us with full amusement (evident from all his suppressed snickers) from behind his glass screen — the money he owed. And when he finally got out, he immediately slammed the door close. But, just as he was about to walk away, out of my sight, he winked at me in total flirtation — the smirk still playing on those lips of his.

And I couldn't help but smile a little.

Although, as quick as it came, that smile had vanished, with one thought occurring to me. He's heading for Renzy and Claire's wedding. Which means he'll be at the reception. Which can only mean one thing, and one thing alone.

"Excuse me, Miss, where to?" I hear the driver ask as he finally calmed down, disrupting me and my thoughts.

"Erm, listen here..." I say, trailing off, urging him to tell me his name.

"Ziggy." He said, a toothy grin coming out, making me laugh heartily at the sight.

"Ziggy, how 'bout I book you in for the whole night." I offered, my laugh dying down a little, replaced with a a more serious and demanding tone.

"The whole night?" Amusement flickered through his arab brown orbs, and his eyebrows raised up high in question.

"The whole night." I confirmed, with a little nod of my head. "For four hundred dollars."

"Eight hundred." He bargained up quickly, shooting me a very suggestive wink of the eye — one that made me miss the blonde head's irritatingly attractive wink — while his lips turned into a very obnoxious smirk.

"Five hundred." I tried, my patience running thin.

"Six." He shoots back at me, his face still the same, only, a little more disappointment is shining through his eyes.

"Five." I finalized with a tone that cannot be argued with. And I'm sure it'll work. It always works.

"Fine." He huffed, turning back around to face the road again as I smiled smugly to myself, awkwardly doing a small victory dance.

"Perfect." I grinned a little, picking up the pink high-heeled shoes I've thrown in earlier on, and then setting them inside my tote bag. "It'll be a long night, Ziggy."

"I can tell." He says, almost as if he knew what was in for him — which, I highly doubt.

But there's one thing I'm sure of. That chance meeting I had with Blondie, won't be the last I'll see of him tonight. And my goal — despite the blushing cheeks and shaky breath he's caused me earlier on — is to make sure I avoid him at all cost. Why? He could be dangerous for my little ol' heart.

-x-

A/N: I hoped you liked that! I've got chapter two already done so I can assure you, next week, there will be an update. Please review if you think it's good, if it's interesting or blah. You know, the usual! & if you've read my work before, I'd love to hear what you think of it now! If I've improved in anyway, or got better! & you'll be glad to know...no one gets drunk in this. WELL, maybe a chapter or two, but nothing too serious. ANYWAY, erm, I really hoped you guys like this 'coz I was so proud of it & it would be sad if it wasn't as good as I thought it'd be. I'm sure it will definitely be better than 'LAP'. Probably one of my best work yet. YAY :) & oh, long reviews would be nice. Yes, yes it would.