The film company took the risk. A week later, the producers signed Lada for the lead role of the series. She was the girl the creators had imagined long before business interests changed the script. It was almost unbelievable that a book character could exist in real life.

The production crew sought to give the main female character Lada's unique personality. They also wanted to create media buzz about the studio's support for unknown American teenagers. Meanwhile, the company's lawyer weighed the deal. He expected a tough fight over canceling the contract with the previous star.

Preparations for the shoot began in earnest. Tory, Lada, and the crew were warming up in the dance studio. The choreographer had the stern demeanor of a Bolshoi prima ballerina. She was scolding the girls for their hesitant moves. She lamented that everyone's portfolio claimed they were "professional dancers."

"Do any of you have some fresh music?" she asked. "It feels like my playlist is putting you all to sleep."

One of the dancers walked over to the TV and typed in her favorite band's name on YouTube. Energetic music filled the room, and the girls perked up, moving to the beat. The choreographer finally seemed happy as she watched the group perform acrobatic exercises to the rhythm.

"My dear child, be careful. You picked the worst time to fall in love," the choreographer joked. Lada's intense attraction to the screen caught her attention. The frontman had a captivating on-screen presence. He seemed designed to seduce his audience, both men and women. "You need to focus. Let's try to relearn a few steps."

Lada wasn't hearing her at all; she only looked up when Tory playfully poked her under the ribs. Lada couldn't tear her gaze away from the screen, particularly from the frontman.

The heavy metal door creaked open. The casting director walked in to greet her colleague but was immediately captivated by the screen.

"Of course!" Her voice burst out in joyful celebration. Dialing someone's cell number, she rushed out of the gym.

***

With a tight shooting schedule, the directors held live auditions for the final role. The studio extended personal invitations to candidates. Everyone in the show, especially the girls, couldn't stop talking about every new guy who appeared on set. They teased the delivery guy relentlessly, making playful advances to get his Instagram. Girls openly vied for attention from each artist during casting sessions. Tory's nostrils flared at the sweet aroma of the young man exiting. Which made the senior production coordinator's anger boil over. She ordered everyone to clear their heads and get some fresh air outside.

The entire crew rushed out to the courtyard behind the studios. The autumn Californian sunshine was warm and pleasant. Lada scanned the area, searching for Tom and Tory among the crowd of cheerful teenagers. She felt stifled, with the sun heating her thick tangle of hair. Her short stature made it impossible to see above her colleagues' heads, even on tiptoes. She tried climbing onto a bench for a better view but stumbled. As she fell to the gravel, she worried. The wounds on her knees and elbows would take time to heal. It would be hard to hide them during filming.

But she never hit the ground. A firm grip encircled her waist, followed by a secure hold on her shoulders, then settled her back into an upright position.

Lada swept away the dust, then yearned to express gratitude. In a while, she found herself lost in the unreal gray eyes looking down at her warmly and caringly.

"Hi there," smiled the rockstar.

Lada felt the ground slipping away once again and lost her balance. A young man was caught by surprise, but supported her with a practiced movement and finally helped her sit on the bench.

"Are you okay?" he asked, holding the girl with one hand. With the other, he grabbed a water bottle from his deep purple backpack.

Lada was disoriented, and the guy began to look around for help. An on-set doctor must be available, and now it was time to trust their expertise. With a quick flick of his fingers, the guy opened the water bottle and insisted that Lada hold it with both hands.

For a minute, he watched her drink, then took the bottle back and tightly screwed on the cap.

"Come on, talk to me." He gently touched her overheated head. It confirmed his fears of heat stroke.

Lada's cheeks immediately flushed red. She shook her head, realizing she needed to say something. "You have a really nice voice," she mumbled, instantly regretting her words.

Young man hesitated, looking at the charming face of the stranger girl. He took off his baseball cap and put it on Lada's head. The cap was comically large for her.

"Let's find some shade," the guy suggested as he stood up from his knees. He quickly realized that Lada wasn't ready to move fast yet.

He bent forward, gently placing a hand on Lada's waist to support her. He raised her from the bench and guided her to the studio. They went through a back door, where a blast of icy-cold air greeted them.

Lada's eyes absorbed the dim light, then focused intently on the musician. He looked almost the same as in the music video. Only now he wasn't wearing sunglasses, and one could get lost in the slow, friendly gaze of his moon-gray eyes. He was blonde, but his hair wasn't as light as it appeared on YouTube. The grown-out dark roots and tousled light locks added a playful, disheveled look to his aesthetic. He had a well-built body, which Lada couldn't help but notice during her awkward falls, and a broad back. His torn Converse sneakers clashed with his new, perfect-fit leather jacket. His gentle gaze also didn't match his bold stage persona. Lada's neck started to ache as it became harder to admire the tall, handsome guy from her short stature.

The guy smiled awkwardly, unsure where to hide from Lada's intense gaze, and handed her the water bottle again.

"What's your name?" he made a new attempt to start small talk.

"It's Lada," came the answer.

Blood gushed from the girl's nose. The musician's pupils widened, but he tried to stay calm to avoid scaring her more.

"Okay, Lada. I need to find the emergency room. Do you know where it is?" he said slowly.

Suddenly, Lada "woke up" and asked anxiously, "Are you hurt?"

The question caught the young man off guard. He hesitated. But if he didn't deny anything, it would be the quickest way to get her to the doctor.

"Will you show me the way?" he asked, patting his pockets and searching for a pack of paper tissues to help stop Lada's nosebleed.

The emergency room was in another building. Lada pulled the door open to let the guy go first, but he guided her inside. The nurse immediately took charge and began her examination. After half an hour, the nurse opened the door. A less disoriented girl emerged, thanks to a vitamin drip.

Lada stepped out, feeling better, but froze when she saw a musician waiting for her on the floor.

He sprang to his feet, seizing the examination results and prescription. He glanced over the text, recording words like "exhaustion," "stress," and "anemia."

"Can you escort little Miss to her room?" asked the nurse.

The guy nodded without hesitation.

"N-n-no, absolutely not. We need to get you to the audition room!" Lada perked up as soon as the door closed, pulling the guy by the sleeve toward the main office. "You shouldn't have wasted so much time on me."

"Wait, wait... don't rush. Let's follow the 'adults' orders," he smiled sweetly, dampening her enthusiasm. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

"To be honest, the past few weeks have been a blur," she replied quietly and distractedly. Lada decided to change the subject. "What's your name?"

"P.J.," he shrugged.

"Already Googled that," Lada spilled her little secret and immediately blushed with embarrassment. "I meant your real name. What do the initials stand for?"

"Well..." he paused. "The 'J' is for Jayden, my last name."

"And your first name?"

"You don't want to know that, trust me," the guy said with a sly smile. "Let's stick with old-fashioned P.J.?"

They padded softly through the ink-black corridors to the hotel wing.

"I'll tell you a secret in return," Lada offered.

P.J. took a deep breath, realizing he would give the girl anything she wanted at that moment, and said with a smile, "The 'P' stands for 'Puppy.' My name is Puppy Jayden."

Lada didn't laugh or roll her eyes like other girls did when they first met P.J.; she bit her lip and fell silent.

They made their way through the shadowy corridors behind the studio.

After a while, Lada said, "It's hard to imagine the amount of adoration your parents tried to fit into one word when they chose your name. Those five letters define unconditional love," she finished, wishing to vanish.

Puppy Jayden had never experienced anything like this before. In the cold, technical corridors, he suddenly felt warmth. A tender feeling spread through his body, and he smiled imperceptibly. He abandoned his real name in introductions to strangers long ago. He was tired of the same jokes, repeated by hundreds of people, each thinking they were incredibly witty. What annoyed him the most was the obligatory criticism of the choices his parents had made.

***

P.J. missed the audition's start time, but he walked Lada to the dorms, where her friend Tory waited impatiently. Tory bit her lips and worried so much that her nails left marks on her palms.

"Oh my God, Lada! What happened?!" she exclaimed, rushing to hug her friend but lowered her voice when she noticed the guy.

"Holy crap, P.J., the whole studio has been looking for you for the past hour! Ever heard of a phone?" she scolded him as if they were old friends.

With a calm demeanor, Puppy gave Tory a medical report. She gave P.J. her power bank. Then, she guided him through the confusing studio hallways. After that, she wrapped her arms around Lada and led her to the bedroom. Lada grasped P.J.'s baseball cap tightly, reliving their encounter with vivid storytelling.

***

How much time has she spent in the darkness now? Each time Lada remembered meeting P.J. for the first time, she smiled. She felt as if she had known him for all her lives.