Chapter 4, Part 2

After hesitating, I opened the message anyway.

Hello, Diana! My name is Valentine, and I'm the host of the new TV project Love at First Valentine. I heard about you from your mother, the incredibly charming Astralia. She spoke of her daughter with such warmth that our team decided we wanted to get to know you better.

Our TV project is dedicated to finding the perfect match. We're preparing a pilot season of seven episodes, scheduled to air just before Valentine's Day. You have been selected as one of the participants, and we're delighted to share the news!

The first date will take place later this week in a blind-date format. By random selection from Cupid's Wheel, all participants will be paired off, after which six more dates await them in circumstances set by the project. You'll be competing for the prize and, of course, for the title of "perfect couple," as chosen by the viewers.

Filming is confidential, with no live broadcast, but the episodes will be edited in a reality-show format. The meeting place is not discussed in advance, only the general details: date, time, and assignment. You will be fully informed of the terms when signing the contract.

Don't worry, Diana. Everything will be easy, beautiful, and in accordance with your horoscope. We promise!

If you decide to accept our offer, reply with just one word, "Agreed," and your email address.

P.S. We have an excellent budget, top professionals, and an esthetician backstage. Don't doubt it for a second: with us, you will shine!

See you soon!

Yours, Valentine

I read it and stared at the screen. My fingers were shaking.
Shine? An esthetician? Seven dates on camera?!
A contract?!!
Lord, send me a sign from above. Why do I need this?!

"Di, what does it say? Show me!" Stan cut in impatiently.

"Diana, is everything okay?" Dad craned his neck, not without concern.

Nothing was even close to okay.

I got up from the table, reread the message aloud... and let out a heavy breath.

"Everything is just peachy. Absolutely wonderful!" I said with determined despair, so I wouldn't groan. "All that's left is to hang the lucky sock around my neck and go conquer television."

Somewhere inside me, the little door of common sense slammed shut, and a draft squeaked: help!

***

Diana's Room...

I closed my bedroom door, climbed onto the bed, and opened the group chat with the girls called "Birdies." Once, during gym class, all three of us had flown off a bench, and from then on not a day went by without chirping:

Diana:

Girls, HELP!

I'm in trouble! I urgently need an escape plan from the city!

Also a new dress (better make it seven), a new bag, and a lawyer.

Vicky:

Kitty, what happened? Did you decide to drop your Korean course and now you're afraid to tell the teacher?

Dasha:

Or did you eat after six p.m. and now your conscience is eating you alive? Di, don't scare us like that. We're here for you! You definitely won't get THAT fat!

Diana:

It's much worse, girls.

Mom went on TV. And now I'm in a LOVE SHOW!

And no, you did not read that wrong!

Lend me a sleeping potion and a tower with a dragon. I'll sleep there until better times!

Vicky:

(shocked emoji)

Oh my God! Did Astralia really go all in?! Di, remember your mom's New Year readings said she'd meet a potential son-in-law! Could this be IT?!

(awed emoji)

Details. Now!

Diana:

My perfect Korean is somewhere nearby?! The one who's an idol, an intellectual, and can cook fantastic pad thai all at once?!

(rubs eyes and looks around)

Oops! No, of course not.

Mom took part in a podcast as a guest psychic. They provoked her, and on a live broadcast she promised she could bring any couple together.

Then, in a burst of inspiration, she let slip that she has an adult single daughter (crying emoji). Read: LOSER! Me. In front of the whole country!

And that she's sure I was made for the perfect match!

And they're all toothy crocodiles over at the network! Especially the producer and the host, Valentine.

They have ALREADY messaged me!

And now if I refuse, they'll make Mom a laughingstock.

And if I agree, I get seven dates with a self-obsessed influencer who will definitely show up for publicity and wear a sequined jacket!

Blind dates!

On camera!

I have no chance of winning!

Dasha:

(jaw drops in shock, urgently makes popcorn)

(turns on bag-rustling sound)

Vicky:

(jaw drops in delight)

Opens a Google Doc and writes: "Diana's Style Guide for a TV Meltdown"

Working sections:

Park date - trench coat and charm.

Stress date - nude tones and coffee

(girl, you urgently need a new sexy bra!)

Date with an idiot - total black and sarcasm (your case!)

Di, with that light ponytail, smoky eyes, and red lipstick, you'll look killer!

Dasha:

Agreed. To hell with the sequined jacket!

We need scarlet Chanel!

(sad) Too bad Birkin bags are out of our budget.

Diana:

Girls, are you okay?

Vicky:

Di, let's be objective (photo incoming!):

You're smart.

You're beautiful.

And even without any show, you act like every date is a casting call!

Now at least they'll capture it for posterity and tell you what to do.

WHY NOT?

Dasha:

And they'll feed you for free. This is important!

Di, what if there's someone cool there?

Maybe it's fate?

Diana:

(with sarcasm and snot)

Sure. Also with an esthetician backstage and a ratings race?

Dasha:

Love at first insult is still love! Imagine:

he sits down across from you, blinds you with sequins, and says, "Hey, baby,"

and you say, "I hate you, creep," and fix a curl in the reflection of his sequins.

Romance!

Diana:

Girls... You're scaring me.

Ha-ha! I pictured it!

And encouraging me at the same time.

(snot hanging down to the floor)

Thanks, birdies!

Dasha:

(strong emoji)

Our superpower is with us!

(popcorn is officially in play)

Vicky:

Kitty, you've got this!

We believe in you!

And if the influencer turns out to be a bore, you'll incinerate him with one look!

Dasha:

Or strangle him with the sexy bra in a fit of passion, haha!

I already want to see THAT!

And then...

And then I closed the chat, stared at the screen... and accepted Valentine's offer. Hearing Dad's stern voice behind the door and Mom's bewildered one, I typed one word: "Agreed." Sent the reply email and pressed my palms to my cheeks.

Sock. Coffee. Reality show. Mom...
Must be the full moon!

But when, despite the late hour, I got dressed and went outside to breathe some fresh air and go to the store, a young crescent moon looked down at me from the sky. Thin and sly, like fate's satisfied smirk.

I sighed bitterly and headed to the supermarket for carbs to lift my mood. I was already on my way out when I ran into Demond, who had stepped away from the next register and was also heading for the exit.

In a hooded sweatshirt, with a big bag in his hand and a gloomy expression without the slightest trace of a smile, he looked as if he'd been invited to play a hitman with nothing left to lose.

Our eyes met.

"Isn't it a little late for you to be walking alone, Catkin? Want me to see you home?"

"Thanks, I'll manage. I don't want to end up in hell ahead of schedule."

And that was that.