When Max comes downstairs for breakfast after doing her morning workout routine, showering, and dressing in comfortable clothes, she's not surprised to see that no one else is there. She knows that it's a hotel that not everyone can afford, in the heart of London, and that only important business people, athletes and even artists usually stay there, so it's more comfortable to have all the dining room to herself: less noise and more calm.

She also knows that it's only nine in the morning, and that it's extremely difficult for the Italian group to have woken up already if they arrived at the hotel around two. She imagines that they will continue to sleep soundly, the blinds drawn to the end and their throats dry from all the alcohol ingested, and although Max hardly knows them, she cannot help but smile because the mental image is funnier than she had intended.

She thanks for having a great resistance to alcohol, or else she would be in an even worse state than that of the boys'. She has also been a teenager, and although she's only than the Italians for a couple of years, she knows first-hand that the younger you are, the more you enjoy partying. Max can't blame them: they just won Eurovision, they are garnering enormous fame, levels of popularity they could never have imagined, but they also want to get carried away and have fun nights.

She goes over her routine of viewing her social media while sipping her coffee, and is not surprised to see that various media outlets echo last night's party. The accounts that she follows on Instagram aren't fan accounts, but accounts of other celebrities she admires or her friends, but she also follows some important media, and she's still not used to it now that they also write about her. She sees some photos from the beginning of the night, when she entered the pub, and even from her meeting with Maneskin, and she is grateful that nobody inside has leaked anything, because she knows that, otherwise, they would talk more about those photos.

She logs into Twitter this time, where her notifications have skyrocketed, even the number of followers has increased, and although Max doesn't care about her numbers, her eyes widen when she sees that she has exceeded ten million. She correctly assumes that this is due to the photos that have been published with Maneskin, in which everyone is smiling, they seem to have a good time and there seems to be even more closeness despite having met only on that day. That's right, because she checks her mentions and sees both hers and Italian fan accounts speaking to her.

"drop the selfies bestie," she reads aloud, and the slang they use on Twitter makes her laugh because it seems like they are all one big family. She decides to answer because she likes to be active on social media; after all, she owes everything to the people who have supported her and led her there. "I don't have any but I'm sure Ethan's got some," and since it seems that the boys are not too active in their private accounts she doesn't mention him, because she knows that one way or another the messages will reach the young musician.

Her followers know immediately that she's online, and they try to get her attention. "how did you sleep? did someone give u a massage today? are u drinking water queen?" And Max can't help but laugh again because she never imagined that she would have been the one to be written those things to. "All good babe thx for asking! Absolutely needing that massage tho." She is surprised to learn that even at these hours of the morning there are active people on Twitter taking an interest in her life, and she can't help feeling even more fortunate.

"Shut up before I make you lad !" Notification of Louis's response comes to her a half hour later, when there's no more coffee or toasts left on her plate, and none of the Maneskin members are down yet. "Give me a call when u see my messages u twat."

Max knows Louis won't respond to her tweets anymore, so she'll probably get his call around late evening, so she moves her phone away from her and it's just then that three-quarters of the Italian band show up in the dining room. They aren't wearing their clothes from the night before, but they are wearing comfortable clothes as if they planned not to leave the hotel for the remainder of the day, and Max doesn't blame them: based on their looks, especially Damiano's, she can imagine the hangover they will be going through.

She gives them a welcoming smile and a greeting, because she knows that the less they talk, the better it will be for their heads.

"Buongiorno, gentlemen. May I offer you a pill?"

"We just came down because we thought you'd be here already. So, out of kindness again, I'll gladly accept your offer," Damiano replies, and Max shakes her head as if she thinks the boy is incorrigible.

Max pulls out an aspirin for each of them and advises them to drink plenty of water before they eat, and the three of them listen even though Ethan looks much better, and Thomas seems more sleepy than hungover. All three are silently grateful, but Max can't help but frown. "And Victoria? I thought she would come with you."

"We don't share a room," Ethan alleges, shrugging a bit.

"Yeah, not our responsibility. We did enough trying to wake each other of us up."

Max rolls her eyes but lets it go because she understands that Damiano's head is not in its best condition now. "I guess it'll be me who goes after her."

It seems like Max's comment is tired, but she really doesn't mind checking the status of the fourth Italian member. After all, she's feeling the best out of the five, so it's not a bother. She picks up her phone and goes to the apartment they all share —Max had no idea until last night— which is much more comfortable because their rooms are closer together than she thought.

The brunette knocks on the door, because if Victoria's hangover is similar to her friend's, she knows she won't want noises. She whispers her name softly but firmly, and doesn't get any kind of response, and judging by the scarcity of light coming from under her door, Max thinks Victoria is still sleeping. She tries to enter, but she knows that without the corresponding card she will not be able to. However, she feels her pockets because she is wearing the same pants as yesterday, and it was she who opened Victoria's door given her condition.

Max rolls her eyes in false fatigue but walks in anyway and confirms her suspicions. She listens to the girl's breathing over the silence, and with the flashlight she sees that everything is as she left it the night before. She sits carefully next to her on the bed and shakes her lightly so that the girl doesn't get upset. "Victoria...," she hums. "Victoria, c'mon, time to wake up."

She hears a growl coming from her lips and has to stifle a laugh. She slowly slides the curtains from her position, appreciative of the hotel's robotics, and Victoria squeezes her eyes tight to avoid the sunlight. She growls once more but it's inevitable that she will open her eyes because surprisingly, the sun in London at almost 10 in the morning today is strong.

Victoria blinks several times because the image of Theresa Maxwell in front of her waking her up that morning is not what she expected, and she looks around as if she thinks she is dreaming. But Max sends her a smile, and Victoria is deeply embarrassed: she has just met one of the most promising young artists in the world, and the first thing she does to get her attention is to get so drunk that she has to go wake her up herself. So she grunts again, and this time Max laughs.

"Good morning to you, too. Just wanted to check on you in case you needed anything. The boys are already downstairs having breakfast, do you need any—"

Max doesn't have time to finish her sentence because the first thing Victoria does is hang her head and vomit all over her shirt. Max opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out: she knows her first reaction would be to curse at everything, but she doesn't want to come across as angry and rude to Victoria, who runs red-cheeked to the bathroom, where she locks herself up. Max can smell the alcohol on her clothes and allows herself to look in disgust at her shirt and gag when she rolls the fabric so she doesn't get stained when she takes it off.

"Bloody hell," she whispers once, curling the shirt into a ball and throwing it into a corner of the room to avoid stepping on it later. Hearing the sound of Victoria expelling the ingested alcohol from her body and wrinkling her nose: it's one thing to have a hangover, it's another thing to vomit from it. Max knows that Victoria is probably feeling awful from the headache and also being embarrassed that way in front of her. So she knocks on the door, this time the bathroom's, and tries to convince Victoria that nothing is wrong. "Let me in, Victoria. I will help you."

Max is pleasantly surprised when she briefly hears the door latch, and gently pushes it. She frowns at the image of Victoria leaning against the wall, her blonde hair plastered to her forehead and neck, and Max clicks her tongue. For a moment she forgets that she is not wearing her shirt, but she sees the Italian's expression and remembers. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," the girl babbles, and Max, far from being angry, feels bad for her.

"I assure you, it's all right. No need to be embarrassed, it can happen. Do you reckon it's over now?" Victoria nods harder, and Max mimics her gesture. "Have a shower and then I'll order you something to eat. Do you think you can lend me something to wear for now?"

The Italian nods again, and Max doesn't force any more response because she can only imagine how she must feel. The Englishwoman gives her all the privacy she wants —and that she probably needs after that disaster— and opens the closet to get the first shirt she sees. It's not entirely her style but she likes it because it's wide and comfortable, and because Max has always found it a nice and intimate gesture to share clothes with your friends. It smells like Victoria and it smells good.

She picks up her phone to warn the boys that they won't come down, but realizes that she doesn't have their numbers. Taking advantage of the fact that Victoria has momentarily turned off the water to speak. "May I borrow your phone, Victoria? I want to let the boys know everything's fine, but I don't have their numbers."

She only hears a high-pitched scream, so she assumes that Victoria has heard her and responds in a positive way, so she unlocks the Italian's phone as best she can and enters her WhatsApp, and appreciates seeing how the first chat is that of the group of music. She gets into the conversation and writes as fast as he can. Not feeling really well. You're free to do whatever you want x. Max is aware that the above messages are all in Italian and that they will probably be surprised to see Victoria speaking to them in English, so she attaches a photo of her face, raising the thumb of her free hand, to let them know that no one has hacked her phone.

why are you wearing victoria's shirt, Thomas responds instantly, and Max is glad that he is feeling better.

it's a long story, Max replies, still like Victoria. Quickly adds the phone numbers to her own phonebook, creating a group with everyone, thinking that this will create a link more quickly.

we still want to know, make it quick

that's what she said, Damiano answers, Max rolls her eyes and immediately another message arrives instantly: i've always wanted to say that in english so thanks i guess.

welcome, welcome! if u can talk in english here it would be appreciated, however i know how to use google translate. if you feel like you're more comfortable in italian, or you're an arse like damiano, feel free to do it x, Max speaks for the first time for the new group. Saves the members of the band with not too affectionate names but even with an emoticon. regarding the story, maybe victoria's the one who should tell you. us english people are very polite and private and i intend to keep that reputation.

They take several minutes to respond, and Max doesn't even pay attention to the fact that they're probably musing between the three of them why she's not coming down and why she's wearing one of Victoria's shirts. However, the shower water stops running and Victoria opens the door slowly, almost shyly, but Max understands that she probably still feels like shit too. "Okay there?"

"Yeah, I needed that. Both things. Really, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have drunk that much, I'm stupid."

"It's okay, really, please don't worry about it. Think about it this way: it's almost the first impression you've left on me— Ouch! I'm just kidding!" Max laughs happily when she sees the second cushion in the blonde's hands, ready to be thrown too. "You take the bed, I'll get you something to eat."

Max leaves the room before Victoria has time to answer, and she doesn't have time to say anything else, so she lays down on the bed, the towel still wrapped around her hair and allowing herself to rest for a few minutes before Max come back and have to change clothes. She blushes deeply at the mere thought that the singer has seen her that way, has had to go to wake her up on purpose, and the welcome that Victoria has given her has been to vomit on her. Although she knows that Max is joking, she knows that this was really the first real impression she had of her, and Victoria thinks she will have to do her best to make the Englishwoman forget it.

Victoria decides to record a voice message for the group that everyone has —the five of them now— in Italian, so that only the boys will find out. On the first floor, Max watches carefully what to get for Victoria, and decides to have some pastries and an orange juice, because she ignores the girl's tastes and thinks that everyone can like this. The phone vibrates in her pocket, and her eyes light up when she sees that there are already conversations on the new group. Sees three notifications, an audio from Victoria, a sorry, Max from her, and another audio from Damiano. She plays Victoria's, but gives up quickly upon hearing strange words and a heavy Italian accent, and then she knows why the apology message. Damiano's audio is seven seconds of him laughing out loud, as if the story he just heard was the funniest thing in the world, so Max assumes that Victoria has told him the truth.

stop laughing i want to know too

basically victoria just told us she puked on you. the problem with her is that she usually spends half of the time telling other stories, that's why the audio lasts that long, Thomas answers her in a few seconds, when she's already opening the door to enter the room, and Max is surprised by the ease they have to speak and respond so quickly in a language that is not theirs, and she is not even able to say her name in Italian.

"I'm here! I brought a bit of everything because I didn't know what you'd like."

She drops all the things on the bedside table, where Victoria is charging her phone. The girl is lying on the bed, now dressed in comfortable clothes and the towel still drying her hair, but looking much better than she was a while ago. Her skin has regained color and the redness in her eyes isn't so obvious. Max is in charge of tidying up the room a bit, throwing her old T-shirt away directly, and opening the windows so that the room can be ventilated. Victoria watches her without saying a word. "You didn't need to do any of this."

Max turns around and smiles broadly at her. Victoria momentarily forgets the number of followers on her social networks, the number of zeros in her bank account or that she has just returned from a tour in America with one of the stars of the moment. It just looks like Max, a normal girl from England, and Victoria likes that. "I'd like to have someone doing this for me in case a hangover was killing me. It's not a problem. Maybe drink before eating? Testing your body with liquids is preferable than having solid things, in case you decide to throw up again."

"You sound like an expert," Victoria comments, mostly to make conversation, in a humorous tone. She wonders if she is overstepping the line.

"I might not be as young as you are, but I've definitely had my own rough nights —and mornings," Max responds in the same tone.

"I'm afraid to ask."

The girl sighs, and Victoria reflects on her limits again. "When you get famous you think that everything is at your feet: the fans grow, the compliments fly towards you, the interviews and the paparazzi make you believe that you are a star and that everything is forever. But everything changes, you mature, you grow up and you realize that life is fleeting and that you have to start taking responsibility for your own actions," the brunette answers with a tone more serious than her last conversations, and Victoria frowns a little. "With this I don't mean that you can't drink or go out partying, only that you have to be aware of what the limit of yours is. I decided I didn't want to spend my best months in bed because I'd had a crazy night last night."

"You talk like things have been bad for a while."

"It's a difficult world. When I appeared on The X Factor, I had just turned twenty-one, I was studying, and my hopes of becoming a singer were slim. However, they saw something in me to give me the opportunity to be where I am. I have grown up in a difficult environment, so being able to fulfill my dream and at the same time have enough money to pay my mother back for everything she has done for me was incredible. But you are young, you allow yourself to be carried away by fame and the celebrities who introduce you to the world, and you have to be mature enough to realize that you have to keep your feet on the ground if you don't want to end up being forgotten in months. Dedicating yourself to this has very good moments, but not everything is partying and fun, it's also sacrifice, effort and a lot of work, and you have to know how to distinguish when is the time for each thing."

Victoria sits up against the pillows and hugs one of them against her chest. "Is that what you're here for? The boys and I are new, is the record company afraid that we might get off track?"

Max shakes her head. "They don't believe that. You have incredible potential and it's proven that the public loves you. You dare to change standards of gender, sexuality, and although it's not usual in the industry, people like you while you educate. Sure, they would like to be able to control you a little more, but in the end who you are is what makes you different and what captivates the public. I am only here to help you get used to this world a little faster, so that you know how to behave around and return the favour that Ariana did to me. It's always good to have someone from inside as a mentor, someone who can give you a bit of direction on where to go. I will always try to guide you in the most faithful way to your principles."

The Italian fidgets between the sheets, a little uncomfortable, and although Max can notice it, she doesn't know what causes this concern, so she keeps quiet until Victoria herself is the one who raises her voice. "I am a little afraid that we will end up being one more band. Since we created the band, Thomas and I have been clear about what we wanted to do, and it is a bit scary to enter such a crazy world as young as this. I don't want our essence to be taken from us."

The brunette nods in agreement, as if fully identifying with Victoria's words. "That's not going to happen. I know that it's not exactly a consolation to look at it from this perspective, but your difference is what sells and makes money, which is what the representatives and record companies are looking for. You are their success, so as long as you continue doing what you are good at, you have everything assured," Max picks up the plastics from Victoria's breakfast, who removes the towel from her head and looks at the Englishwoman, who raises her head again. "What? What's on your mind? "

"You're nice to talk to. I love the boys, but sometimes it's nice to have an honest chat, girl to girl. Again, I'm sorry for the shirt. I'll make it up to you, someway, somehow."

Max smiles to answer, but the phone vibrates in her pocket and she has to pause to read the message. Interview tomorrow at 10 a.m for Maneskin at the hotel. Booked one for you at the same time for a radio show on Saturday. The driver will take you there. As timely as ever, Simon.

"Well, you can start by making it up to me by not screwing up your first interview tomorrow morning," Max shows her Simon's message, and she doesn't know from Victoria's gesture whether she's excited or tired.

"You won't even be there with us for our first interview!"

"Blame Simon, I have—"

Her phone rings again, this time with the default iPhone ringtone, and Louis's name and photo light up the screen, and Victoria feels a bit displaced, so she just nods for Max to answer. It's been two times that Louis comes out in the conversation or is physically in it when Victoria is there, and she doesn't know whether to think that there is something more between the two English or if she is really just upset because she wants some attention from Max.

"Wasn't hoping your call 'til the wee hours," Max confesses with a laugh, and Victoria can't help but think about why she wants more of her attention if she just met her. She doesn't pay attention to the words that the two singers exchange, but rather carefully observes her expressions when she speaks and how sometimes it's difficult for her to capture what she is saying because of her strong accent. Victoria finds it strange that she wants to look at her so much, that she seeks her presence so much, because she knows that her drunken self did it the night before, and she doesn't know why it felt so good to come in search of her and have Max surround her in her arms too.

The Italian has no problem recognizing when a person is attractive, and Tessa Maxwell, without a doubt, is. Victoria also has no problem admitting that she had searched for her several times on the internet before meeting her and had been enthralled with her photoshoots. She also knows that the girl sings very well, not for nothing has she been the opening act for Ariana Grande herself. The problem for Victoria is that she knows that Tessa Maxwell is not just a pretty face, and that is what scares Victoria the most: because she knows how to recognize external beauty but it's difficult for her to admit when someone means more to her.

And she knows Max is going to make it very difficult for her because of how she feels the need to look away every time the English laughs or jokes with the boy on the other end of the line.