Yours Truly,

Ashlynn Wylde. Age 22, about to be 23. She has three friends, two being family. Growing up, she was always told how odd she was. People gave away a lot with their eyes and Ashlynn was desperately avoiding the intimacy eye contact brought with it. After a terrible encounter when she was in high school, she found herself with a scar stretching from the inside of her palm all the way up to her upper arm. After seeing how much her family struggled, Lynn is determined to appear normal. During college, she made her first friend who also happened to be her roommate, but she counted it as an accomplishment. Always trying, she would bring her eyes to people's noses or to a space on their face as close to their eyes as possible...hoping...praying that people would never figure out that eye contact made her want to hurl. People were terrible sometimes, but Lynn was on the hunt for the good ones.

Now, graduating college, she finds herself as the maid of honor for the only friend she managed to make. With this wedding, comes a whole lot of terrible encounters that push Ashlynn out of her comfort-zone. Most of those encounters she'd put in the same file labeled "Rylan Thatcher". A man who desperately wanted her eyes to remain on him.

-- --

"Ronnie used to go on and on about how much he adored it when your eyes would focus on him when he was talking to you." His hand ran up my arm, fingers brushing over my scar. He hooked his hand under my wrist bringing it up and around his neck, our eyes connecting for a second. "I get it now." My breath caught as his hand ran along my neck, thumb pressing against my lower lip, parting them. "Under your gaze, I feel like the most important person in the world." He leaned down, his lips brushing mine. My eyes fluttered shut, but he pulled back causing them to open again. A smirk pressed to the edges of his lips as he made his way lower, brushing his lips against my torso on his way down.

"Eyes..." Kiss. "On..." Kiss. "Me."