Chapter 7 Maddrian Fanfic Now Available
#MADDRIANFANFICNOWAVAILABLE
ADRIAN
Something warm and perilously close to excitement fluttered in my chest as I lay in my bed at the rental cabin and read Maddox’s response for the tenth time.
Maddox
I’ll do it. But this is the last time.
I tried tamping the feeling down. This was business. Content creation. A professional arrangement, nothing more. But I couldn’t stop grinning over how quickly he’d backed off his precious Rule Three.
I had plenty of other things to grin about, too, obviously.
The numbers I’d woken up to had been staggering. Views: 223K and climbing. Comments: over 8,000. Shares: nearly 15,000. These weren’t just good metrics—they were viral metrics, the kind that could make or break a sponsored campaign.
Vic clearly agreed, based on the quick succession of voice messages he sent.
“You’re on fire,” he said breathlessly in the first. “Nordique is obsessed. Obsessed, babe. They’re talking long-term brand ambassador. Exclusive contract. Multiple campaigns across next year’s product lines. As in a private jet to Chamonix in January and a branded capsule collection next fall!”
This was followed quickly by, “They want to see sustained engagement and ‘emotional storytelling.’ And whatever that spark is between you and Mountain Man? They want more of it. Fast.”
And then, slightly more concerningly, “But don’t get soft on me. You’re selling the fantasy, not falling for it.”
I dropped my phone on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
An exclusive deal with Nordique was the dream. It would lock in everything I’d spent the last five years building. But that last line from Vic, about selling the fantasy, not falling for it, echoed in my head.
Why did it feel like I was doing both?
I picked up the phone and stared at the Instagram posts again. I’d known the reels would do well, but I hadn’t expected just how much my followers would engage. Even as I watched, the comments kept pouring in.
OMG the tension between these two!! You could cut it with a knife!
That grumpy mountain man is HOT. Does he have an Instagram??
The way he looks at you when you’re not looking at him… I CANT
Is this scripted? Because if not… get married immediately
#Maddrian #MountainManHottie #HolidayLoveStory
I choked on my own spit.
Maddrian? Seriously?
I continued scrolling, my cheeks heating inexplicably when I got to an actual frame-by-frame breakdown of our “intimate moments”—everything from when I’d wiped whipped cream off his nose to our heated debate about lavender hot chocolate.
They weren’t falling for Nordique, or Legacy, or even my cute dating idea. They were falling for the idea of a romance between me and Maddox. A romance that didn’t exist.
And if I didn’t already have the feeling that was a problem, I definitely did when I slid into a booth at the Pinecone for a late breakfast.
“Morning, handsome!” Sadie called cheerfully. “Coffee’s already brewing. Your usual?”
“Uh. I don’t know what that is, but sure.” I smiled, shrugging off my coat and draping it carefully over the back of the chair.
She set a coffee and a tiny pitcher in front of me. “Oat milk creamer,” she said proudly.
“Oh. Wow. Thank you,” I said, inexplicably touched.
“No trouble. Anything for a friend of Maddox’s. You two looked mighty fine over at the Marian place yesterday,” she tossed out at full volume before disappearing to the kitchen.
Her words seemed to be a signal all the other diners in the place were waiting for. My breakfast quickly became a whirlwind of whispered comments from people sitting nearby, pointed glances from others, and actual conversations with the people brave enough to walk up and speak to me.
“It’s so nice to see Maddox smile again,” an older woman said wistfully. “You know he lost a little of his sparkle when he lost his parents, may they rest in peace.”
Another guy narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t you go distracting Maddox from his job now, you hear? Sullivan Hardware’s been our local go-to longer than you’ve been alive.”
It was small-town trial by fire, and by the time I finished my waffles—apparently, they were my “usual” now—I felt like I’d been run through a gauntlet.
It only got worse when I got back to the cabin and answered Vic’s call.
“Adrian! My sweet moneymaking angel!” His voice was so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “Have you seen the numbers? Have you seen the numbers?”
“You messaged me about them before dawn.” I switched to speaker so I could open my laptop on the coffee table. The numbers had only multiplied since breakfast. They were too big to fully wrap my head around. “They’re… impressive.”
“Impressive? Darling, they’re fucking spectacular. I’ve never seen engagement like this on your account. Ever. Not even that time you ‘accidentally’ fell in the pool at the Santorini shoot.”
I winced at the memory. That “accidental” fall had been meticulously planned, right down to the specific white linen shirt that would become perfectly translucent when wet.
“The comments are giving me life,” Vic continued. “Everyone’s shipping you and Mountain Man. You’ve created a monster, baby, and everyone loves a monster, especially a hot, grumpy one.”
“I didn’t create anything,” I protested, ignoring the twinge of annoyance at Vic’s reference to Maddox. “Maddox is a photographer and videographer. A talented one. And a good guy. When my original date got sick, he stepped in as an emergency solution—”
“Well, that emergency solution is now your golden ticket! Nordique is thrilled. Just got a call from their marketing director—the director, babe—raving about you. This is exactly what they were hoping for.”
I sucked in a breath. “They said that?”
“Yes, with the small caveat that you need to ‘stay luxe,’ whatever the fuck that means. I’m assuming they want you to keep featuring their fancy shit while exchanging smoldering glances with Lumberjack Ken—”
“His name is Maddox,” I corrected automatically, then immediately regretted it when Vic made a knowing “mmhmm” sound.
“Listen,” he said, suddenly serious. “This is a gift. The algorithm gods have smiled upon you. Lean into it.”
“Lean into what, exactly?” I asked, already pretty sure I knew.
“The chemistry, darling,” he said, confirming my suspicion. “The unexpected romance angle. The luxury-meets-rustic narrative. It’s fresh, it’s engaging, and most importantly, it’s selling.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “There is no romance angle, Vic. Maddox is the videographer. That’s all. He didn’t sign up for any of this other stuff.”
Vic was quiet for a moment, then made a disapproving noise. “That’s a shame. But you’re on with a firefighter today, right? See if you can spark some flames with him, and then everyone will forget about Maddrian. Let’s make hay while the sun shines.”
I didn’t inform him the firefighter had canceled and Maddox had already agreed to stand in. That would only add fuel to Vic’s fire.
“I’ll try my best. In the meantime, see if you can start lining something up for January. A tropical haven, preferably. I wasn’t meant to live in a place like this. I’m wearing two pairs of socks, Vic. Two.”
After ending the call with Vic, I flopped back against the sofa pillows and stared at the ceiling. The analytics on my phone continued to update, numbers climbing in real time.
I should have been thrilled. I was thrilled. This kind of organic viral momentum was what every influencer dreamed about and could convince Nordique to offer me a permanent contract.
But I was also conflicted because my success had come from the one element I hadn’t planned or controlled—Maddox Sullivan.
Grumpy, refreshingly real, frustratingly attractive Maddox, who clearly wanted nothing to do with me or my “content farm.” Who’d agreed to help me so the town matchmakers would lay off him and had been thrown from the frying pan into the fire.
I switched from Instagram back to my text window and scrolled up to our earlier exchange, the one in which I’d suggested a local ski instructor could step in.
It had taken a surprisingly short time for his response.
Was it wrong that I wanted to read something into it? Like, maybe Maddox didn’t mind stepping in as much as he claimed? That he’d had as much fun as I had? How was it that the Maddrian hashtag and the uptick in Legacy matchmaking enthusiasm hadn’t turned him off?
I closed my messaging app and blew out a breath. Sell the fantasy, don’t fall for it, I reminded myself.
I forced myself to work for a few hours, checking in with other sponsors, responding to comments and DMs, and posting more content from our day yesterday. But every time I looked at one of our reels, it was impossible not to focus on the dark-haired man across from me at the hot chocolate table.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I pulled out my phone and texted him.
Are you seeing this? The reaction to our videos?
Maddox
No. Some of us have actual work to do.
For some of us, this *is* the work. Don’t be a job snob.
Maddox
He’s a poet, ladies and gentlemen.
I tried to relax my cheeks, which were already sore from grinning like a fool. He was so fun to provoke.
The comments are going INSANE. Apparently you have “mountain daddy energy”
Maddox
What the hell does that even mean?
It means half my followers want to climb you like a tree. The other half want to adopt you and feed you soup.
Maddox
Disturbing. All of it.
Oh come on, don’t tell me you haven’t looked at the comments. “The way he looks at Adrian when Adrian’s not looking” has 500 likes.
Maddox
I don’t look at you any particular way.
Sure, Sullivan. And I don’t spend twenty minutes styling my hair to look “effortlessly tousled”
Maddox
Twenty minutes? For hair that looks like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket?
HEY. This is premium chaos. It takes skill to look this accidentally perfect.
Maddox
“Accidentally perfect”
Was that… was that an emoji? From the man who probably still has a flip phone?
Maddox