Chapter 6 Unplanned Chemistry #2
“Operation Maddrian? No. You’re making that up.” I quickly searched the comments.
Maya commandeered my computer mouse. “Stop scrolling and actually read some of these! ‘The tension!’ ‘The way the grumpy one softens when the pretty one laughs!’ ‘This is better than Hallmark!’”
My face flooded with even more heat until the fire emoji began to look downright frigid compared to my face. “He gets to be the pretty one, and I’m the grumpy one? Says who? I’m not fucking grumpy.”
“Are, too,” the two of them said at the same time before breaking into laughter.
I dropped my head into my hands. “Don’t you both have literally anywhere else to be?”
“Not when this is happening.” Maya scrolled through more comments. “Oh my god, someone made a compilation of every time you almost smile at him. It’s set to ‘Can’t Fight This Feeling.’”
I groaned. “That’s it. I’m moving to Alaska.”
“Alaska has influencers, too,” Alex pointed out helpfully. “And probably worse internet for uploading your obvious sexual tension with them.”
I threw a lens cap at his head. He caught it, laughing.
“I hate both of you,” I announced, standing up. “And I’m going to the store, where at least the power tools don’t try to make something out of nothing.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Maya said cheerfully. “I’m sure the screwdrivers and drills could—”
“Stop now, I beg of you!” I cried, stopping her from making whatever raunchy insinuation she was going for. “You’re my baby sister, for crying out loud. Jesus.”
I grabbed my jacket, pointedly ignoring them both. “I have actual work to do. A business to run. Bills to pay. A Christmas photo shoot for the McClures and their dogs tonight. You know, real-life stuff that doesn’t involve shipping or viral videos or—”
Pretty boys.
My phone buzzed. Again.
Adrian
Hey. So Marco had to cancel. Any chance you’re free to…?
“Don’t even think about it,” I muttered to my phone before sending him a single-word response. No.
“Was that Adrian?” Maya asked, her tone far too innocent. “Because I heard there was a, um, thing scheduled at the firehouse, so—”
“No.” I pointed at her. “Absolutely not. Rule number three exists for a reason.”
“Yeah, because you’re scared,” she shot back. “Scared of actually letting someone see past your grumpy shell. Scared of admitting that maybe, just maybe, the universe is trying to tell you something.”
“The universe isn’t trying to tell me anything,” I argued. “Just because we’re both gay doesn’t mean we somehow belong together, Maya. Don’t be that guy. Girl. Whatever.”
Her smile dropped, and she glared at me. “Unfair hit below the belt.”
I closed my eyes and inhaled while Alex, thankfully, stayed quiet. “Sorry. You’re right. Sorry.”
Maya reached out and touched my arm. “I just think it’s time for you to live a little, Maddie. Stop taking everything so seriously. Go on a date. Let yourself have a little fun.”
“It’s not fun, it’s a job,” I reminded her, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was tired. Tired from working, tired from trying so hard to keep all the balls in the air. Tired of being the grumpy one.
Tired of being alone.
I remembered the way Adrian’s fingers had felt brushing my nose, how his laugh had sounded when it was genuine, how his eyes had sparkled when challenging my opinions on lavender hot chocolate.
My phone buzzed again.
Adrian
You can’t deny the on-screen chemistry was great. C’mon. It’ll be quick. In and out. You said the tree farm opens at 10, we can be done by 11:30. Professional. Painless.
“Fuck,” I muttered, letting my head thunk against the doorframe.
Because he wasn’t wrong. The chemistry had been great. The footage was compelling. And something about trading barbs with Adrian Hayes had made me feel more alive than I’d felt in years.
Which was exactly why it was dangerous.
“I’m going to the store,” I announced. “To do actual work. You two can keep scrolling social media all you want.”
As I descended the stairs, I heard Maya call after me, “Don’t forget to dress cute for your second date!”
I slammed the gallery door harder than necessary, the bell jingling in protest. The crisp winter air hit my face, helping clear my head as I trudged toward the hardware store.
I needed to focus on real problems—like the stack of still-unpaid invoices in my desk drawer, or the leak in the stockroom roof, or the fact that our heating bill had nearly doubled this month.
Not Adrian Hayes and his perfect face and his surprisingly genuine laugh and—
“Maddox! Just the man I was hoping to see!”
I suppressed a groan as Evelyn Hoffman emerged from the drugstore, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. The woman had been trying to set me up for fifteen years. The fact that she now had social media ammunition was clearly too exciting for her to contain.
“Hi, Mrs. Hoffman. Kind of in a hurry—”
“Oh, I just wanted to say how lovely that video was! Such chemistry with that handsome fellow. You know, my nephew’s coming to visit next week, but perhaps I should cancel since you and Adrian seem so—”
“We don’t seem anything,” I cut her off, probably more sharply than the sweet woman deserved.
“It’s a business arrangement. That’s all.
” I didn’t remind her that she’d already forced poor Nelson and me into a date together, and it had been a complete disaster.
In addition to being a “menswear specialist” at a department store—his words, not mine—he was also a lighting designer for a theater over in Spokane and felt that my career and I would benefit tremendously from his lighting expertise.
I had not-so-politely disagreed.
“Sorry to run off,” I said, waving toward the hardware store as if gesturing to someone very important inside. “Have a great day, Mrs. Hoffman!”
As I entered the store, I breathed in the familiar scent of sawdust and metal. The morning light streamed through the front windows, catching the Christmas display Dad had meticulously arranged every year. Now, Maya did most of the decorating while I handled inventory and bills.
I headed back to my office, determined to focus on actual work instead of viral videos and meddling townspeople. The bills wouldn’t pay themselves, no matter how many views Adrian’s post got.
My hand brushed against something soft as I reached for the paperwork—Dad’s old Nordique sweater, carefully folded in the corner of the drawer.
I consistently forgot I’d stashed it there after finding it draped over Dad’s office chair in the weeks after his death, and every time I “found” it again was a bittersweet reminder.
The wool was still impossibly soft, the cable-knit pattern intricate and beautiful despite its age.
“Your grandfather gave me this the day I took over the store,” Dad had told me once. “Said a Sullivan man needed a proper sweater for Montana winters.”
I ran my fingers over the soft knit, remembering Adrian’s genuine surprise when I’d touched his sweater yesterday. The way his blue eyes had widened, how his practiced smile had softened, that crooked canine had emerged, and it had turned into something real.
My phone buzzed again in my pocket.
Adrian
Not to push, but the tree farm would be perfect for showing off Nordique’s new winter collection. And since you already know the equipment…
My hands shook with nerves that I would cave and agree to anything he asked. It was tempting to take everyone’s advice. To live a little. But I knew myself better than they did.
I didn’t do casual very well. Especially not with someone who… sparked… with me the way Adrian did.
Just find another date! I thought you had your Grindr app primed for this.
Adrian
I’m trying! But someone told me not to bother finding my own dates, remember? Wasn’t that Rule 1? And you have to admit we had good chemistry.
I stared at his message, fingers hovering over the screen. Because he wasn’t wrong—we did have chemistry. The kind that made my chest tight and my skin warm. The kind that was hazardous for someone who couldn’t afford distractions.
The kind that made me want things I couldn’t have.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket without responding, but the damage was done. Now, all I could think about was Adrian Hayes in a pine forest, snowflakes catching in his perfect hair, that genuine laugh echoing between the trees…
“Fuck,” I muttered, dropping into my chair. “Get it together, Sullivan.”
But even as I tried to focus on the invoices, I couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, in less than forty-eight hours, Adrian Hayes had managed to get under my skin in a way no one had in years.
A soft knock interrupted my brooding. Maya stood in the doorway, her expression unusually serious.
“Before you yell at me,” she said, holding up her hands, “I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have teased you about Adrian. I know how hard you work to keep everything going here, and I wasn’t being fair.”
I deflated slightly. “Come here, squirt.”
I stood up as she stepped into my open arms, squeezing me just as tightly as I did her. “Thank you,” I murmured into her hair.
She pulled back and perched on the edge of my desk, idly picking up a scattered paperclip from the desk as I took my seat again. “I just… I see how tired you are sometimes. How much you gave up to take care of me and the store. And when I saw you actually laughing with him yesterday—”
“Maya—”
“No, let me finish.” She met my eyes. “You deserve good things, Maddie. Even temporary ones. Even if they’re wearing stupid-expensive sweaters and have too many Instagram followers.”
I reached for Dad’s sweater, running my thumb over the worn wool. “Life isn’t about what we deserve. It’s about what we can handle. And I can’t handle—” I gestured vaguely, encompassing Adrian, the viral video, the whole mess. “All of that.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” She held up her phone with one of the reels playing on a loop.
For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to capture Adrian’s laugh again. To be the reason for it.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said firmly. “Two and a half more weeks and he’s gone. Better to keep things professional.”
Maya hopped off the desk with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Be stubborn. But when he shows up with some random date who acts like a doofus and looks like shit on your camera, don’t come crying to me.”
I swiveled my chair back to face the invoices. “I won’t. Because I’m calling Fannin Linwood. He owes me a favor. And he’s amazing in front of the lens.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Never mind, then. Those two will for sure hook up, and then your window of opportunity will close forever.”
As she headed back out to the front of the store, I stared after her. She was right. Fannin was known for enjoying time with pretty men. He’d gotten a reputation on the snowboard circuit as a total player. He’d seduce Adrian in a hot minute, and Adrian would probably thank him for the opportunity.
Fuck. Fucking fuck.
My phone buzzed again.
Adrian
I might have a lead on a guy. Alex Marian suggested I call Fannin something. He’s a ski instructor, I think. You know him? Think he’d look good cutting down Christmas trees?
My jaw ached from grinding my back teeth together.
I stared at the message, picturing Adrian among the pines with Fannin fucking Linwood, snowflakes catching in his golden hair, that genuine laugh pointed at Fannin’s model-pretty face and broad shoulders, while Fannin’s large hand spanned Adrian’s lower back.
The two of them together would make for beautiful footage. Professional, artistic footage that could help the store and Maya’s college fund.
But the idea pissed me off. For professional reasons, obviously. What if Fannin spent the entire time flirting? We’d be there all day. And what if Adrian stood out in the cold too long? His red cheeks might read splotchy and weird on-screen.
No. It would be better if I did it. For the sake of the finished product.
We could always use Fannin on a different shoot. Date. Maybe one in which he taught Adrian how to ski or snowboard.
My stomach twisted. That was a stupid idea for all the reasons I’d just said, wasn’t it?
I picked up my phone again and banged out a text.
I’ll do it. But this is the last time.
His response was immediate.
Adrian
Methinks we don’t like the ski instructor.
Remember we’re meeting at the Pinecone at 9. Don’t be late.
Adrian
There’s my grumpy mountain man. See you at 10. Just kidding.
And then he sent a kissy-face emoji.
I dropped my phone like it had burned me, but the damage was done. My traitorous heart was already racing at the thought of talking to him again. Of flirting with him again. Of being his… date.
Pretend date.
It was a stupid idea, and I was stupider for being the one to agree to it.
“Be easier this way, though,” I muttered, turning back to the invoices. “Quicker. Less bullshit to deal with.”
But even I didn’t believe that blatant lie.
#DenyDenyDeny #SparkShmark #FuckingEmojis #NoFannin