Chapter 6

"Diana. Catkin," I added for some reason, then immediately regretted it. It sounded far too nervous.

"Gorgeous!" Greg exclaimed and dashed off to the costume room. When he came back, he clucked over me like a mother hen. "No, those shoes won't work for you. Take these sandals! And I'll zip the dress myself... And don't you dare ruin your hair!"

Behind the narrow curtain in the dark corner fitting room, I barely got a look at the dress Greg shoved at me. So when I found myself in front of the tall mirror in our screened-off little room, I first blinked twice and tried not to drop my lashes along with my jaw when I saw my reflection.

Instead of my usual ponytail, my thick hair lay in a perfectly smooth, shining sheet all the way to my waist, and I swear it looked far more dramatic than any curls. I was wearing a super-short emerald dress with a soft sheen that matched my eyes, bare shoulders, and tight sleeves. I would never have chosen it myself, but my legs looked endless in it. Greg added gold-toned high-heeled sandals and a thin gold bracelet at my wrist. No other jewelry, just the chain around my neck.

The makeup was beyond praise: defiant, full of depth in my green, slanted eyes and fresh scarlet on my lips, but not vulgar, only provocative in just the right measure. I stood there, staring at another version of myself, and all I managed to say, tugging at the dress, was:

"It's so short. It barely covers my butt..."

"It'll cover what it needs to cover," the stylist-makeup artist cut in confidently, giving my hand a light slap. "Under the spotlights it'll glow like a laser. Everything else is intrigue! Don't think anyone is going to fuss over you like this on every date, so use your chance to show yourself today. You're Diana, not the background for someone else's story!"

I did not want to be background. That wasn't why I had studied hard and been a straight-A student. But...

"Use it? I'm scared, Greg," I admitted honestly.

Greg came over and stood behind my back, a head taller and twice as wide. He wrapped his big hands around my shoulders and drew his brows together.

"How about now?"

"Th-thanks. That's already better."

A red light began blinking under the ceiling, and the young man narrowed his eyes. He raised his hand, checked his watch, and turned me toward the exit.

"Time! I have turned you into a weapon, so go fire. Show them that Catkin grace, and may you not get stuck with an idiot."

"What? Wait!"

"Forward!"

I didn't have time to thank the makeup artist for that send-off. Along with the other girls, I was led backstage at the big stage. They lined us up in a dim area where soft light illuminated only the three-tiered platform and our legs. We stood on its top step, each on her own round marker, listening through an earpiece to instructions from the assistant director:

"Girls, please take the flattering pose you rehearsed, smile, and move as little as possible. The guys are standing on the other side of the stage on the same kind of riser. Both sides are kept in matching shadow, so no one will see anyone until the moment of the meeting. Attention, the show is about to begin..."

Rehearsed?!

Oh God. My thoughts jammed together and tore around my head at light speed.

How should I stand? Straight? Sideways? What if the dress rides up and I flash the whole show? Where do my hands go, on my waist? Along my body? Should I run them through my hair? No, then I'll look like a mannequin in a store window. Legs... I pulled the dress down over my hips and looked down. The floor shone like glass. Please don't let my heel slip. I had never worn stilettos like these in my life. All I needed was to crash down at the most important moment, right in front of the cameras.

Stop. This is hysteria.

I involuntarily glanced sideways at my neighbor on the left: the tall brunette had already stretched her neck and frozen in an "ice goddess" pose. On the right, the blonde settled slightly onto one hip and coyly touched a curl, imitating Marilyn Monroe. And only I stood there like a drama-school intern no one had remembered to warn about the performance.

Inhale. Exhale. I raised a hand to the thin chain around my neck and touched the phoenix-wing pendant, my parents' gift, the one I'd found in a holey sock. Right now I was ready to believe in anything: phoenixes, chakras, unicorns, as long as it helped me stay on my heels and not bolt.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, I caught the cold gaze of the brunette on my left. It lasted only a second, but that was enough to understand: she was looking at me like a rival. Seriously? We hadn't come here for a Miss Universe casting call. Or... was I wrong?

The stranger's unfriendly look worked unexpectedly, as if it had flipped a switch. The blonde on my right, on the other hand, looked at me like I was empty space. She pressed her full lips together and lifted her nose even higher, as if emphasizing her superiority. I snorted inwardly. Wow. So much drama, and they hadn't even started filming us yet.

The whirl of thoughts in my head immediately froze... and fell into order. Panic gave way to a strange stubbornness, and Greg's words finally reached me.

Not a rival?!

I straightened, squared my shoulders, and felt the heels stop being a curse. I tossed my hair, lifted my chin, and set my hands on my hips. I stood as if a cat had awakened inside me: graceful, cautious, but ready to spring at any second.

No way. Screw that. I am not losing, even if I embarrass myself in front of the whole country!

Would they just start already? I was sick of waiting.

The assistant director's voice came on in the earpiece.

"Everyone get ready! Three... two... and shooting take one!"

In that same instant, the spotlights flared, the musical preview began, the sound of a thousand people applauding filled the hall, and from a cloud of smoke on the stage appeared the host: that same smiling Valentine. He wore a snow-white suit with a red rose in his lapel and held a microphone that looked as if it had been born in his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Valentine's beautiful, velvety voice cut through the space around the stage and our tense figures, making us tense up even more. "Welcome to the first episode of the romantic show Love at First Valentine! Where feelings are real, storylines are unpredictable, and the stars have aligned to bring hearts together!"

My knees wobbled, but I did everything I could to keep my face composed.

My knees wobbled, but I did everything I could to keep my face composed.

"Tonight, here on this stage, the boldest and brightest contestants of our project will meet, ready to trust fate and win your hearts!" Valentine said with a radiant smile. He made an expressive sweep of his hand, and beams of light slid over the audience. "Some have come to test themselves, some to tempt fate, and some still have doubts, but they are already ready to risk everything for one smile or one glance. For the strongest feeling of all, the one that changes everything!"

For a second he tilted his head and added a little more quietly, almost conspiratorially, addressing the audience:

"And I admit, I'm not sure who is more nervous right now, you or them. But one thing is clear: this will be unforgettable!"