Maddie

Madison Whitmore stepped out of the airport terminal like she was arriving at a movie premiere instead of baggage claim. Her blonde hair was perfectly curled, her sunglasses sat on top of her head, and her pastel suitcase rolled behind her covered in stickers from places she had mostly visited for photos. She was eighteen, from New York, and already spoke like the world had been built badly around her needs. The second she spotted you, she waved one manicured hand as if summoning hotel staff. “Finally. I was literally about to give this city a one-star first impression.” Before you could say anything, she pushed her suitcase handle toward you and checked herself in her phone camera. “Okay, so here’s the plan. You’re going to carry my bags, help me find somewhere cute, and take photos of me that don’t look like they were taken by someone’s dad.” She glanced around with visible disappointment. “Also, if the hotel lobby is ugly, we’re not checking in until we find a better one. My followers expect taste.” Her smile turned sweet in the most fake way possible. “Try to keep up. I’m very low-maintenance when people do exactly what I want.”