The invitation came via a frantic, excited FaceTime call from Olivia. She was in her dressing room, already in full costume as Paige—her character's signature mismatched prints and neon accessories impossible to miss. Her voice crackled with the kind of giddy enthusiasm Alex adored.
"Okay, so don't say no, just listen," she blurted, pacing in a tight circle. "The writers for the season two premiere have officially gone off the deep end—in the best way. It's a huge 'Vuuugle-Fest' music competition episode. Paige and Frankie are trying to win, and there's a panel of celebrity guest judges and—" she took a breath—"they want you to be one of them. A cameo. Please, please say yes. It would be so fun."
Alex, who had just spent the afternoon layering acoustic textures into a new Alec Benjamin track, leaned back in his chair with a smile. "A celebrity judge on a hyper-colorful kids' show. Sounds completely on brand for me."
"Oh come on!" Olivia laughed. "Just imagine it—your dry sarcasm versus rainbow confetti explosions. Comedy gold."
He grinned. "Alright. I'm in. For you."
A few weeks later, Alex's car pulled into a bustling studio lot in Burbank. It was a far cry from the red carpets and industry galas he was used to—here, there were golf carts whizzing past, actors in pirate costumes sipping iced lattes, and production crews juggling light rigs like circus performers. The air buzzed with chaotic creativity.
Olivia met him at the entrance of the soundstage, practically bouncing with excitement. "Welcome to my turf," she said dramatically, spreading her arms wide.
She guided him through the maze of sets, introducing him to her co-stars and crew. Alex watched as she lit up every room—not as a girlfriend, but as a seasoned pro in her own right. She knew every mark, every lighting cue, every camera angle. The crew adored her. Her co-stars hung on her every word. And she wasn't just performing—she was leading.
"It's crazy seeing this from your side," Alex said as they walked past a fake hallway labeled "Vuuugle HQ."
"Different kind of studio, same kind of chaos," Olivia quipped.
Then came the scene.
He was cast as "Mr. Vance," a legendary music producer judging Paige and Frankie's over-the-top musical act. The script was delightfully ridiculous. His co-judges were a sparkle-obsessed fashion blogger and a talking puppet with a faux British accent.
His line delivery—stoic, sarcastic, and deadpan—landed harder than anyone expected. When he critiqued a group that sang about loving homework with, "The harmonic structure was rudimentary and lacked any sense of thematic complexity. It's a no from me," the crew burst into laughter. The director loved it. They kept rolling as Alex found a rhythm, playing his parody version of himself to perfection.
The real challenge came when he had to critique Paige and Frankie's song. Olivia stood in character, pretending to await his judgment with wide-eyed hope. Alex stared at her, trying not to smile as he said, "Your guitar playing was… pedestrian." Olivia broke first. She giggled. He cracked. It took three takes to get through the line without laughing.
By the end of the shoot, the entire crew gave him a round of applause. "Mr. Vance" was an unexpected hit.
After Olivia wrapped her final scene, she stepped out of costume and into her usual hoodie and jeans. She was ready to collapse, but Alex had other plans.
Instead of rushing off to dinner at a paparazzi-filled LA hotspot, he led her to a quiet corner of the lot—the set of a fake Central Park. It had painted skylines, plastic grass, and benches bolted to the ground. But Alex had transformed it. A blanket was spread out. A bag from her favorite deli sat beside a thermos of hot chocolate. A container of her favorite cookies waited like a final surprise.
She blinked. "What is this?"
"A dinner date in New York," he said, gesturing to the set. "Thought we could use a night in the city."
As the sun dipped behind the lot's faux skyline, the two of them sat together, sharing food and laughter. Olivia slipped off her shoes, stretching out on the blanket. They talked about everything—her monkey co-star from last season, his recording sessions with Juice WRLD, Alec's obsessive songwriting habits, and how loud the puppet's laugh was during rehearsals.
"You were hilarious today," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Crew loved you. Maybe you've got a future in sitcoms."
"I think I'll stick to songs," he chuckled. "But I don't know how you do this every day. The patience. The precision."
"It's just storytelling," she replied. "Like what you do—just with more glitter."
A comfortable silence followed. The plastic trees rustled slightly in the evening breeze. They weren't in Central Park. They weren't at an awards show. They weren't icons or headlines. They were just two teenagers who loved each other, finding space to breathe.
"You know," Alex said softly, "I've always admired your work ethic. But today, watching you command this place… I see you. You're not just amazing. You're unstoppable."
Olivia looked up, a soft smile spreading across her face. "And you're the only person who could make fake New York feel like home."
They clinked thermoses. The stars above were studio lights. The city skyline was a painted backdrop. But everything between them was real.