"Come on, come on, girls! It's the last session, I promise. The sooner we pick it up, the sooner we'll be done," the photographer promises with camera in hand and an apologetic smile on her lips.

Max sighs, looking at her through the reflection in the mirror, but nods in her direction. She remains seated in the chair, spinning herself around briefly, distracting herself as best she can. The stylist touches up the finishing touches to her hair, applies a darker lipstick than the one she wore the previous session, and pats her shoulders to indicate that she's ready. She gives her a small smile, which disappears when the stylist does the same, and sighs again.

She is tired. The last week has truly been a storm of emotions. Make-up covers her dark circles under her eyes and her smile takes care to erase any hint of sadness from her features, but Max knows what she's feeling, and it's a deep weariness on her eyelids and in her soul. She has barely left the studio the last few days, working until she can't no more, racking her brains for words that she feels and  which rhyme, coming in at nine o'clock and leaving almost dinnertime. When she comes home, she hardly sleeps, because she feels she hasn't finished her work. So she spends more hours thinking about her songs than sleeping, and it takes its toll.

On top of that, she is constantly recording interviews, attending events and posing for the cameras. She doesn't mind interacting with the hosts, because they are charismatic people who play games and make her laugh, and if it gives her image positive publicity, then so be it. But modelling is an activity that she feels is not her own: Max has never dreamed of posing in front of a camera and being a model, but she knows that this is now her new life. As much as she misses writing with Louis, lying in her bed, seeing her mother... All that has been replaced by luxurious meetings with artists, days and nights locked up in the studio and long reflections in the evenings from which she gets nothing clear.

Still, Max always comes back. She returns to the studio because it's her dream and she keeps fighting for it. And because she has found company in Los Angeles, friends she never thought she could find, who never leave her alone and who have made her stay there so much more pleasant. It wasn't her home, but it must learn to be.

"Your turn, Tessa," the photographer's voice brings her out of her reverie, and with a glance around she checks that she is the last one, and that the rest of the girls have already left for their dressing rooms. "Following the idea for the concept of the shoot, take that flower and lie down in front of the chroma. That's it. Now look at me," the camera flash no longer bothers her. She is so used to the lights that she doesn't even blink. "Now look over there, as if you're not interested in the flower. And tilt your head a bit, so it will look better, without shadows."

Lola takes a couple more pictures and Max still doesn't complain. She knows the woman is just doing her job, and she's doing hers, so she doesn't want to raise any tension. Just a few more minutes... A few more minutes and I'll be free, she keeps thinking.

"You're tired, huh?" Lola asks her once she's back at her table. Max sighs, knowing they're done, and stretches out her limbs on the carpet, as if she's making a snow angel.

"You could cut my legs off and you'd be doing me a favour," Max huffs as she stands up.

"Don't put too much of a strain on her, Lola," a voice says from behind them, so they both turn quickly. "It's my girl's birthday, it's only natural she's eager to get out of here."

Anya gives the photographer a brief hug, having worked with her several times, especially after Queen's Gambit, and gives Max a longer hug as she helps her up, leaving a kiss on her cheek. Max rests her head on her shoulder, feeling much better now and, indeed, burning with the desire to get out of there and lie down on her bed.

Well, it's not really her bed. It's not the bed she has in Manchester, nor the one she has in London. It's just a flat in Hollywood that Simon had the good grace to find for her. It's not as comfortable and cosy as hers, but rather cold and too big to feel safe in. Yes, she lives close to many of her friends, and the garden is a delight, not to mention the huge terrace, but it's just not her home. She's been there for two months and still can't recognise it as home —when will she?

"Don't fuck with me, Tess," Lola is surprised. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I get old and bitter," Max growls, undoing the updo in her hair that her stylist had put in place earlier. Then she quietly admits, "I don't like spending my birthday away from home."

"Don't listen to her, Lola. As soon as she has her princess sleep she'll be as good as new," Anya smiles at the young girl, placing her hands on her shoulders. "Come on, I'll walk you to get changed. See you soon, Lola!"

The photographer waves goodbye to them, and Max is pushed by Anya towards the dressing room, a steady grunt on her lips, as if she's being forced to walk. Anya is a little shorter than her, but proves strong enough to guide her into the dressing room and toss her a heavy case containing her normal clothes.

"What are you doing here?" asks Max, rubbing her eyes.

"I had to reschedule an appointment with the agency, and since my team couldn't make it, I thought I'd stop by. Besides, this way I can take advantage and pick you up. Come on, change quickly, we've got plans."

"If those plans involve my bed and getting out of these heels, then I'm all ears."

Anya clicks her tongue. "Well no, actually neither of those two things are included. You and I are going to In-N-Out for burgers to celebrate your birthday —you don't always turn twenty-three, Max! Then I promise I'll let you rest."

"You know I can't eat that whenever I want," Max pulls her hair out from inside the sweater she just put on, and looks in the mirror to fix it.

"So? It's your birthday," Anya shrugs, looking at her phone.

"That won't be a valid excuse for my team."

Anya nods without paying too much attention to it. "I'm pretty sure it will be."

"And besides, how do you expect us to get to the nearest In-N-Out? They'll recognise us right away, Anya."

"It's a wonder you're a model now, Max dear. It's time you started using the resources life has given you," Anya raises her eyebrows, and with her eyes points to some wigs on the shelf. "Let's see, what should I be today? I feel like a redhead, but I've been looking too much like that hair, how about a dirty blonde?" She picks up one of the wigs and purposely puts it badly on her head, prompting a grin from Max.

"Your problem is you've had too many colours in your hair. Now you can't disguise it. Well, you can be bald," Max points to one of the wigless mannequins.

"Yeah, I don't think so," Anya sticks her tongue out at her and holds out the red wig. "Okay, so you'll be a redhead and I'll wear a cap. Don't put any more obstacles in the way of my plans."

"They're not obstacles, I'm just trying to bring a little logic to the situation."

Anya pulls her closer to her, and Max frowns at the close distance, but it passes when she sees her friend's huge grin. "Then stop thinking so much! Don't think so much and do whatever you want. Now tell me, what are you going to order that burger with?"

Max is deeply tired of being a good girl and having to behave. She's sick of the invisible chains on her hands and ankles, of the control exerted over her from all sides, of having to keep a smile on her face even though she doesn't feel it. So she pulls on her trench coat and then adjusts her red-haired wig strands to try to make her real hair as inconspicuous as possible underneath. "Burger in singular? I'm going to order two. And you're paying."

"That's my girl!"

She's eating the second burger —Anya recommends something more elaborate than just cheese, and Max doesn't regret it— when her phone vibrates. Her heart skips a beat, as it does every time it rings, reminding her of old and gone times, but she simply shakes her head and answers it under the watchful gaze of Anya, still covering her face with huge sunglasses and a Lakers cap.

"Yes?"

"Max, thank God you picked up," Lauren's voice on the other end sounds agitated.

"Why, what's wrong?"

"Who is it?" mutters Anya as she sips her milkshake. Max doesn't answer her, but holds up a finger to ask her for a moment.

"I have a favor to ask. I'm meeting someone at Le Jardin for a blind date, but I don't even know who it is. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to accompany me from afar, just to check it's safe?"

"But woman, why are you meeting someone you don't know? It's not as if you were short of suitors."

"It was a friend's idea, and since I felt bad about saying no, I agreed. Please, I'll owe you a huge favor."

Max looks up, only to see Anya fiddling with her phone, as if she's chatting to someone, and thinks she's probably on Twitter, or uploading a picture of the two of them to close friends on Instagram. She doesn't give the blonde in front of her any more thought, but rolls her eyes in frustration caused by the brunette on the other end of the line. "Okay, okay, okay, where are you now?"

"About ten minutes from the venue. We were supposed to meet at nine. Do you know where it is? Well, I'll give you the location anyway. I'll pay for the taxi, don't worry. Oh, and I'll buy you a drink. You're the best!"

"Don't suck up to me now," Max snorts playfully. "I'll see you now."

"Let me guess," Anya speaks up once the brunette hangs up the phone. "Ariana's going out and she urgently needs you to look after her dog. Not that he's not adorable, but hey, you've got better things to do today."

"Well, no," Max purses her lips, drinking. "Turns out Lauren has a blind date, and with ten minutes left she realises it's dangerous not knowing the person. And so this girl has to play bodyguard."

"No shit," Anya laughs pleasantly. "She's that desperate. Will you get a taxi? I have to go home and memorise some lines for tomorrow."

"I have no choice. The bitch won't even pick me up. She's buying me a drink, though, that's nice. I'll see you soon, okay? Thanks so much for the food, it was almost better than the company," Max takes Anya's hand affectionately, because she knows if she hugs her in there then they'll get a little more attention.

"I'll call you later, so you can tell me how Lauren's been doing."

They each take a taxi, heading off in a different direction, and Max leans back in the comfy seat for the twenty minute ride she has. She sighs to herself, adjusting her sunglasses and looking out the window at the traffic in Los Angeles. Night has fallen, but the lights are still blinding and the activity doesn't stop. The restaurants are full, the terraces are crowded, and you can see hundreds of people strolling the streets. After all, Christmas is coming, so the Christmas spirit unites them all.

She arrives at the club even before the promised time, so she gives a tip to the taxi driver who, if he knows her, does a great job of concealing it. She buttons her trench coat and puts her hands in her pockets as she approaches the famous Le Jardin. She scans the scene, hiding behind sunglasses despite the dark atmosphere, and finds Lauren in a black dress with a leather jacket draped over her shoulders by the entrance to the place.

"Did you get stood up or what?"

Lauren raises her head, recognising the voice instantly, but squints at the sight of the girl. "And why are you wearing a red wig and sunglasses? It's almost Christmas, not Halloween."

"You know where I could be? At my house," Max counters back with a sarcastic grin. "So don't provoke me or I'll go back where I came from."

Lauren gives a little jump for joy as the younger girl ditches the hair accessory and sunglasses. The American makes Max go first, and though it's strange for her, because the bouncer doesn't even ask for her ID —yes, she's over twenty one now, but it's always comforting to rub it in the bouncer's face—, but the girl complies.

"SURPRISE!" Dozens of voices shout, welcoming her, and Max is left gaping.

Confetti pours from the ceiling, and suddenly someone places a sash around her shoulders that reads 'birthday girl'. Next to her, Lauren opens her arms and a huge smile spreads across her lips. "Happy birthday, Max! I hope I didn't upset you too much with the blind date thing, but it was the only excuse I had to bring you here," the singer wraps her in a hug, and Max hugs her back, still surprised.

"You did this for me?" Max murmurs, stunned. The decor of the place is impressive: colours everywhere, flags and lighting, ambient music playing, lots of tables with drinks and finger food, and a bunch of people she appreciates and loves waiting for a reaction, smiling at her. "This is awesome, guys. I don't know what to say."

"You deserve this and more, Max. We know it's been a tough few months, away from home and all that. So look who's flown in."

Louis and Niall wave to her from one of the tables, smiles on their lips, and the girl runs to hug them. The boys' scents in her nostrils already makes her feel at home, but their warm gazes and protective instinct over her are what makes her thrill. "You guys came. Fuck, thank you guys so much for being here."

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Louis pats her on the head.

"Looks like you've found yourself some good friends around here, huh?" Niall gives her a kiss on the cheek and takes a swig of his beer.

Max turns around and smiles, finding happy faces looking back at her. Lauren, Ariana, Abel, Montero and Olivia give her a brief wave, catching her attention. "Well, yes. Of the best."

"Come on, a round for everyone!" Anya's voice startles her from behind her back, and Max gives her a withering look. "What? Yeah, the lines were a lie. But at least you can tell me it sounds more believable than going on a blind date."

"Hey, next time you'll make something up to lure her here," Lauren sticks her tongue out at her.

"No hay necesidad de discutir, chicas. Es su cumpleaños y vamos a celebrarlo, ¿no?" A voice other than the three of them interrupts, this time speaking in Spanish for Lauren and Anya to understand, and Max smiles broadly at the sight of Ana at the bar, ordering drinks for everyone. "How I've missed you!" The Cuban woman wraps her in her arms, and Max gladly takes refuge in them.

"It's amazing that you're all here. Thank you all so much, really. You're the best. Now, let's have a good time!" Max shouts, and cheers echo through the room.

Victoria huffs, brushing the snow off her beanie and out of her hair before heading inside. She knows her father doesn't like snow in the house at all, because it melts and then leaves a puddle, so she tries to get rid of it all before going inside. Chili comes out to greet her right away, a warm wave enveloping her as her sister greets her from the kitchen. She smells good, too good, and knows instantly that her father is preparing his famous Christmas dish. Normally it's tradition for everyone to get together, but the three boys have decided to spend Christmas with their families, so that morning it's just the three of them —and Chili, of course.

The girl goes to her room to change, putting her hair to one side. It's grown out over the past two months, so it's harder for her to put it up in a bun. Chili chases after her, wagging her tail as Victoria stays in warmer, more comfortable clothes for being at home. Her phone vibrates, the screen lighting up, and Victoria looks at the date for the umpteenth time that day.

The Italian knows exactly what day it was yesterday. It's ten o'clock in the morning, and every moment of those ten hours she has regretted not texting Max for her birthday. She still sees her tweets and stories, so the first thing she does is go to her profile to see how she celebrated. There are quite a few stories, some more elegant than others, but in all of them the British looks equally happy.

The last photo catches her eye, a photo with several people, whom Victoria is able to recognise, at least in terms of faces. There are eight of them, with Max in the middle, all with big smiles on their lips and some with glasses in their hands. there are no words to describe how loved you make me feel everyday. thank you for everything. here's to twenty three more! @niallhoran, @louist91, @oliviarodrigo, @shawnmendes, @arianagrande, @anyataylorjoy, @laurenjauregui & @ana_d_armas.

Victoria swallows. It's been over two months since they last saw each other, since she broke up with Max, forcing her to leave, thinking there was no hope for them at all. More than two months since they haven't spoken, and more than two months in which she regrets every day that she let her go. But it was the right thing to do, wasn't it? Now Max is happy, even if it's so far away, without any of the burdens Victoria made her bear. Still, it's been more than two months since she can't stop thinking about her.

And it hurts, seeing how the brunette has rebuilt her life. She follows her often, reading news about her, watching TV interviews or gossiping tweets. It seems that her life is succeeding, appearing on magazine covers, doing photoshoots and rubbing shoulders with Hollywood's most influential people. It hurts to see how she no longer looks like her Max, how her hair is no longer brown but has been dyed black, how it is now shorter than before and how her blue eyes sparkle, but not because she looks at her.

She has more than once deleted a message wishing her a happy birthday. She knows she has no right to reappear in her life as if it were nothing, especially not on her twenty-third birthday. It saddens Victoria that they won't be able to see each other's birthdays, grow up and be happy, but maybe it's the right thing to do. After all, it's what she decided, so if she doesn't like it, she's fucked.

She deletes for the last time a message "happy birthday, max. i hope you had a great day. i'm sorry for everything. i still love you," with tears in her eyes, because she knows Max doesn't deserve that. She deletes it and exits WhatsApp.

She takes a picture of the sky, the bright Italian sun making her momentarily forget about the snow that had fallen earlier. That sun that Max said she liked so much because in London it was never too sunny.

Minutes later, she uploads it, a white heart in one corner of the photo, hoping that Max remembers Victoria as much as Victoria remembers the British girl.