After years of carefully crafting content, staging perfect moments, creating marketable narratives—the thing that finally breaks through is completely authentic and entirely unplanned.
I should be thrilled. This is exactly the kind of engagement I've been chasing. The comments are overwhelmingly positive:
"This is the cutest thing I've ever seen"
"The moose interrupt I'm DYING "
"She looks so happy compared to her old content"
"PLEASE tell me they're together"
But all I can think about is Ryder's face when he sees this. When he realizes our moment—that almost-kiss, that vulnerability—is now public entertainment.
A text comes through from Jax:
Jax: DUDE. You and Cap are TRENDING. #MorrisTheMatchmaker is going viral. This is AMAZING for the team!
Then Patrice:
Patrice: Just saw the video. You okay? Want to talk?
Then Dotty:
Dotty: Honey, someone caught you two on video and the whole town's been sharing it. We've been waiting for this since you arrived. Congratulations on being adorable.
My DMs are flooding with brands wanting to sponsor "relationship content," news outlets requesting interviews about my "small-town romance," even Preston Wiloughby —Ryder's agent—asking to "discuss partnership opportunities."
Everything Ryder said he didn't want. Everything I said I wouldn't do to him.
And it's happening anyway because some well-meaning townsfolk decided our private moment was worth sharing.
The view count keeps climbing. 52k. 55k. 60k.
Four games. He asked for four games to focus, and now our almost-kiss is trending internationally.
My phone rings. Ryder's name.
I stare at it for two rings, three, my thumb hovering over the answer button. There's no way he hasn't seen it yet. Someone filmed us and now the whole town is sharing it.
I answer on the fourth ring. "Hey."
"Have you seen it?" His voice is careful, controlled. The same tone he used before the fake dating pitch.
My stomach drops. "Yeah. I just saw it."
Chapter 8
Ryder
"Have you seen it?" My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to, my hand gripping the phone hard enough that the case creaks in protest.
"Yeah. I just saw it," Piper says, and there's something in her tone I can't quite read. Embarrassment? Anger? Both?
Through my cabin window, I can see her shadow moving behind her curtains. Twenty feet away and we're having this conversation by phone like cowards.
"Someone filmed us during the snowball fight. Posted it without asking. I didn't even know anyone was watching, but there's footage of every moment—the laughing, the way we almost—" My voice cracks. "The view count keeps climbing every time I check, like it's personally mocking me."
Thousands of people watching us almost kiss. Thousands of witnesses to the moment I forgot every rule I set for myself about staying focused, about keeping my distance until after the scouts.
