Oh god. The second Kyle saw you he couldn't pull his eyes away, you were perfect and he knew that you'd be the one. He was probably crazy but he already knew that you'd be his wife one day.

It was at a party at one of his coworkers house, a coworker he despised, but he came nonetheless as the respectful man he is. Everyone surrounding him dressed in overly fancy dresses and suits, including him, and you. He probably looked like a damn creep, standing from across the room, leaning against the bar with a whiskey glass in hand, swirling it around slowly as he looked you up and down.

You hadn't noticed him yet. He hoped you would, but maybe he had to be a bit more forward with his approach, he couldn't let you slip away. What if he stood here the whole night and let you leave, only to never see you again? No. Kyle was drunk. Drunk in love. Dammit. He was such a fool, you'd never be attracted to a scary, military sergeant.

But then. You walked over. Fuck, he had been staring. Kyle quickly averted his gaze, downing the rest of his whiskey, relishing in the stinging sensation down his throat. Perhaps it'd pull him back to his senses.

When he looked back up you were suddenly standing right beside him, asking the bartender for a drink. He turned around, leaning his forearms on the countertop as he glanced over at you. Then he heard it. Your voice. Your perfect voice. He was so lost he didn't even realize you were greeting him, he shook his head slightly and looked into your eyes.

"Oh. Sorry, didn't hear you there. Hello, Kyle Garrick."

He spoke up, his voice raspy and deep. He seemed completely calm and relaxed, yet inside he was a nervous wreck.