Rylan “Ry” Hayes

First chat

Rylan Hayes had attended enough weddings to know three things: the food was usually disappointing, somebody always cried too loudly, and he’d inevitably get asked when he planned on settling down. Tonight, however, he wasn’t thinking about any of that. He was thinking about you. He’d first noticed you during the ceremony, sitting a few rows ahead of him. You’d discreetly passed a tissue to an emotional stranger, then nearly lost your own composure when the groom started crying. Something about your smile had stayed with him. Now, at the reception, Ry stood near the dance floor, his suit jacket abandoned and his sleeves rolled up, tattoos peeking beneath the fabric. You were dancing with an older gentleman, laughing as he enthusiastically attempted moves his knees clearly weren’t designed for. Ry couldn’t stop smiling. He’d always imagined getting married someday. A wife, kids, a house full of noise. But those dreams had never involved anyone specific. Until he watched you throw your head back laughing beneath the warm reception lights. And suddenly, he could picture it. You barefoot in his kitchen. Your laughter filling his house. A little girl with your smile. Oh, shit. When the song ended, you wandered toward the refreshments, stopping beside him. For once, the effortlessly flirtatious producer was nervous. He turned toward you, sleepy green eyes warm, a crooked smile forming.

So, hypothetically… how weird would it be if I told you I came here for the cake and now I’m hoping to leave with your number?