Max enters the radio building for the interview on Saturday at exactly 10:20 in the morning, because both she and her team hate being late and they know that there are often problems with broadcasting, so she arrives as soon as possible, greeting the entire production with kindness and shaking the hand of the interviewer, whom she already knows from other occasions, so everything is very simple.

The talk lasts about an hour, time that the singer can say without lying that she is having a good time. The interviewer is charismatic, smiling and always seems to have a conversation about everything, so Max feels comfortable and feels that she laughs more than she talks —something that, after speaking through microphones, the man is grateful for—, she answers the questions that Simon had told her that they would ask her —all those that have to do with her work life are allowed, but nothing unrelated to it unless Max herself allows it— and they even play various games.

In one of them Max gets nervous, because it consists of following the lyrics of the song chosen by the listeners, and although that in a certain way comforts Max because she knows that there are people far from the radio who are interested in listening to her, she doesn't want to look uneducated, and much less if they make her sing songs of people whom she is close to. Therefore, the first songs to follow are by Ariana Grande, but Max nods confidently every time the melody plays, and hits the verses of Love me harder and Moonlight —pleasantly surprising the ears of the listeners, since she even reaches to Ariana's whistling notes—, also Louis' Habit —although she is aware that it's some Harry and Louis fans who have sent it, knowing the closeness between them two—, and also some classics like Another one bites the dust or I want to hold your hand.

"Oh, this should be interesting," Nick says, and shows his phone screen to the rest of the production staff, who nod. "People are quoting your recent closeness to Italian band Maneskin, as you have been seen together quite a few times recently. Now I know your Italian must be rusty, but we'll make it easier for you. I'll let you take a peek at the lyrics as the song plays, but you have to put your best Italian accent for it."

"I'm going to make a fool of myself, aren't I?" Max tries to compose an embarrassed face but the laughter betrays her, and the rest of the team laugh with her. "Okay, I hope you're going at least with Zitti e buoni."

Nick opens his mouth and puts his hand to his chest in surprise. "Look at you, you got that absolutely right! Yeah, the most demanded song is their famous one at Eurovision, so be ready for it. Here, you've got the lyrics in front of you. See them?" Nick presses a button on his computer, and in front of Max is a small screen that lights up, so the girl raises her thumb. "We're going with the first four verses. Let's see how you do. Ready in three, two, one..."

Max's heart beats a little faster than usual, because she doesn't really know any more Italian than she has heard the members speak in the last week and she knows that she is out of control, but she is still aware that it's only to have a good time and put it to the test. She listens carefully to the first chords of Thomas' guitar and Victoria's bass, accompanied by Ethan's drums, and she smiles involuntarily because despite having no idea of ​​the lyrics, the melody transmits energy.

"Loro non sanno di che parlo, vestiti sporchi, fra' di fango. Giallo di siga' fra le dita, io con la siga' camminando, "Max knows that some words are mispronounced, but it's truly impossible for her to know them all, adding the fast pace of the song and her thick English accent. Still, Nick seems surprised when Max tells him not to stop the tune because she's going to keep going. "Scusami, ma ci credo tanto che posso fare questo salto. E anche se la strada è in salita, por questo ora mi sto allenando," the English woman starts to laugh because she runs out of air, but is quickly applauded by the entire technical team as she catches her breath and even coughs a couple of times.

"That was completely nuts!" Nick compliments her, yelling and clapping. "I wouldn't be surprised if you're trending on Twitter all day, Tessa, that was awesome!" Max's brow furrows a little when he calls her by her first name, but she's still grinning widely. "I didn't know you could fake an Italian accent that good."

"C'mon, I messed up half of those words! But yeah, I have listened to the song quite a few times this past week so I'd hope I was able to sing at least a few words. I hope I haven't offended any Italians, by the way."

Nick whistles in admiration. "By the looks of the feed right now, I disagree. In fact, there are some tweets by fans telling you to— Oh, well, you'll read that at home."

The end of the interview is expected soon, and Nick says goodbye to Max in an affectionate way because they already know each other. The singer thanks the entire technical team for having guided her and for their professionalism, and leaves the building escorted by one of the men who has accompanied her everywhere lately. However, although Max's plans don't include anything else than to return quietly to the hotel and eat something while watching Netflix, they are cut short by the presence of the paparazzi outside the studio.

Max tries to ignore them and avoid them as much as she can, but the car hasn't arrived yet and only one bodyguard cannot with the presence of at least a dozen paparazzi. Max didn't like the term "bodyguard" too much, mostly because she doesn't feel special or famous enough to be protected every time she goes out, and also because she would like to feel ordinary enough to walk around the streets without the need for one. The man in a suit who watches over her orders them to stay away or he will have to take tougher measures, but her blue eyes hidden behind the sunglasses look at the scene with some concern.

"Theresa, what can you tell us about your relationship with Louis Tomlinson? You were spotted outside his house recently this week, is something developing between you two?"

Max ignores them again: first, because they have addressed her as 'Theresa', something that usually only her mother does; second, because she's fed up with rumours coming up with Louis when they're really just good friends. The singer ignores another question of such caliber, losing patience at times but keeping her composure because she knows that a lack of control will be the headline of many articles.

"There's a big age gap between the two of you. Don't you confirm the relationship because of rumours spreading about that? Or maybe about the multiple connections he's had these last few years? Does the fact that he already has a kid with someone who's not his girlfriend concern you?"

Max doesn't know who says that, but something inside her lights up and she can't stop it. She inevitably remembers the conversations she has had with the boy over the last week: his drinking problems, his inability to care for his son as he would like, his inability to get over the past and focus on reality, and Max is one step closer to understanding part of the reason why Louis doesn't live in peace: the insistence and rumors created by people like this.

"Maybe if you stopped shoving your microphones in people's private business, we'd consider you trustworthy. In the meantime, stop spreading fake news and rumours just because you want attention. Louis and I are just friends. Now, if you please," Max speaks coldly but in the most polite way possible, because she doesn't want scandals just for expressing her opinion.

She doesn't hear any more voices, only the flashes of the cameras on the silence, as she gets into the vehicle that has come to pick her up, and once inside she takes off her sunglasses behind the tinted windows and snorts with fatigue and anger at the same time. It's not the first time that they ask about her relationship with Louis, nor is it the first time that she has answered that there is nothing beyond it, because it's the truth. It's as if in this industry you couldn't have friends, everyone with whom she was seen seemed to be her new partner.

She rests her head on the window and turns away from her phone because she fears some reprimand from her team or a negative reaction to her words from the fans. Despite the enormous responsibility on her shoulders, Max is still young, she is still capable of making mistakes defending her space, her personal life, her friends, and although part of her would like to apologize for perhaps crossing the line, another part of her refuses to apologize for telling the truth, and that last thing is what she does: fold her arms and rest until she reaches the hotel.

When she arrives there are a few people waiting for her, and Max greets them with a small smile but doesn't stop to take pictures because she is not in the mood and she fears that it could affect the fans. She wants to make a stop at the hotel gym and vent a bit of her anger, but decides to go directly to her room and continue with her plans, as if nothing had changed. She wants to dress in more comfortable clothes and throw herself into bed, but her phone rings —as in recent days, at the most opportune moments— and she knows she must answer it.

"Oh, hey, Martha," Max sits on the foot of the bed and runs her other hand over her face, trying to keep her composure but expecting a reprimand. "What's up?"

"Are you okay? I just saw what happened at the radio station. I've never seen them so vicious about you."

Max frowns a bit, because her publicist is there to take care of her image, and the singer thinks that blurting out the journalists when they are recording it may not be the best of ideas. However, the weight on her heart is gradually evaporating. "Yeah, everything's fine. I've just arrived to the hotel and I've been meaning to rest some time. Everything alright?"

"I was just calling to ask how you were doing. Also, the team's really sorry the car wasn't ready for you when you finished the interview, they assure it won't happen again. But really, I hope you're doing okay. I understand you lost your cool."

"That's surprisingly nice of you all, thanks," Max responds with a tinge of amusement but with sincerity in her voice. She knows Simon wouldn't have been so forgiving of her.

"I believe you'll be relieved to know there's a silver lining out of this," Max listens as her publicist types on the other end of the line. "Your statistics on Twitter have been going up during the last hour. Part of them were because of the interview with Nick, which has resulted in your name being trending, something like 'Max speaking Italian can—' and various responses you'll be able to imagine. Then the other part of your stats is thanks to your outburst outside the building. The fans appreciate you and Louis' friendship, so you deffending him has also resulted in thousands of tweets with pictures of you and him hanging out and saying how good of a friend you are, how they appreciate you standing up for your friends."

Max nearly chokes on her own saliva. "Are you serious? I thought I fucked up big time."

"Watch that mouth of yours," Martha scolds with amusement. "I'm not saying that it was the smartest move to do, because as your publicist I want your image to be spotless, but this time it has worked in your favour. I'm just saying, if you're going to get into trouble, at least do it for a good cause, you feel me?" Martha laughs on the other side and causes Max to do the same, considerably calmer. "The news have been out for an hour, maybe? So expect a call from Simon or any other guru. Also, it'd be good if you distracted people a bit: you know, interact with them, offer them something else to talk about, and I'm sure Simon's drama will decrease soon. I'll call you if there's any more news, okay? Enjoy your holidays, Max."

"Thanks, Martha. You save my life," Max says, and immediately afterwards she hangs up and falls back onto the mattress, noting the softness and freshness of the newly changed sheets, and suddenly Max feels like the day is going so much better.

She enters Twitter because she wants to see Martha's words with her own eyes, and the truth is that she is pleasantly surprised: thousands and thousands of tweets that bear her name as a sign of support, making hashtags to support her and even against the invasions of intimacy of paparazzi around the world. She knows the words of Nick and Martha are true when she sees fan accounts with her profile picture writing somewhat thirsty messages, with racy images and emoticons and even with edits of interviews, concerts and other videos of theirs with background songs that make her look sexy.

Max is particularly amused by the uploaded videos of her speaking Italian —or at least trying to— because she even looks ridiculous doing it, but to other people it seems like she's hot. The Englishwoman thinks that she will never understand what people see in her.

There's a knock on the door, and Max groans under her breath at the mere thought that it's Simon again. However, she finds something very different: specifically, Damiano bowing when he sees her appear, which brings a smile to Max. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We've heard your most recent interview —the truth is, we were tuning in while you were doing it live—, and what can we say? We are pleasantly surprised you know some of our lyrics. We also heard your argument with the paparazzi and we are very sorry about it. We thought that maybe you needed a distraction, you know, to clear your mind."

"Since when are you the spokesman of the band?" Max arches her eyebrows at the constant references to an 'us', but to Damiano being the only one who has shown up in the room. Even so, Max accepts the arm offered by the Italian, and they walk together.

"Haven't I always been?" Damiano's smile pretends to be charming, and the truth is that it is. "Thomas is still too starstruck by you, Ethan's too shy, you know him, and I think Victoria has had enough time alone with you, therefore it was my turn."

"Okay, pretty boy, where are we going?"

"Am I pretty? That's good to hear, even better to know," Damiano smirks. "The hotel has enabled us a room on the top floor for us to practice our songs, as we don't have our studio here in London. We thought maybe you'd like to join us, you know, give your honest opinion about us and see us firsthand before we have our own little tour."

Max smiles widely because she thinks that is just what she needs: some music. She knows that there isn't much time left before they all leave London again, since it's part of her contract to accompany Maneskin wherever they go —according to Simon, of course— and thus take advantage of it to make her a little more famous in Europe. The truth is that she doesn't dislike the idea, because in the week that she's met the Italians she has almost managed to forget that this is just publicity, that their relationship was destined to increase their popularity, but that they have become a pleasant company.

Max doesn't lie, she considers Victoria's the best company of all. Since the young woman had provided her care and attention last week, the truth is that Max had felt much more comfortable with the presence of the Italian girl. And it wasn't that the boys weren't pleasant company, but spending that time with Victoria seemed to have brought them closer together than she'd realized. They had spent the day watching Netflix, Victoria introducing her to one of her favorite shows, and Max quickly obsessing over it, not even leaving bed to go to dinner.

"Please! I'm super excited to see you play your songs. Do you have any new songs in mind?"

Damiano does what Max begins to call "the thing of the hand", because it's a gesture that he does many times and that Max finds it funny. "We just kind of released the new album, so we're focusing on practicing these songs before writing new ones. What about you? Do you have new stuff coming up?"

"Simon is making me wait until the fuss about the tour with Ariana calms down a little to take me to the studio, but yeah, I've got something written. Most of the songs I've sung aren't mine, so I feel like when I record these it'll be more personal for me."

The Italian smiles a little when the elevator leaves them on the destination floor. "You'll be happy to hear we already know your songs by heart. Thomas and I were already fans of yours before meeting you, so you can imagine how glad we were you were joining us," Max is surprised because she thinks that Maneskin's rock has nothing to do with her songs. "Don't look at me like that. I know I have a band who plays rock and roll, but I also have a piece of my heart secured for pop and indie. Besides, I like your voice, you have a wide range. Maybe we can even collab in the future."

Max and Damiano laugh pleasantly because they know that it is something that will hardly happen: Damiano's voice is strong, while Max's is usually much softer. They walk into the makeshift studio and Max whistles in shock. Ethan's battery is at the back of the room, the boy sitting on the stool and checking that everything is in order; Victoria and Thomas's instruments are already plugged into the speakers, the two Italians practicing a few chords to make sure it sounds right; and Damiano's microphone secured to the front of the room, representing the band. There is a glass that separates the band room from the production room, and Max rushes across, but Damiano denies and points to a bean bag in front of them for her to take a seat.

"Morning, Max," Ethan and Thomas greet her from their positions, and Victoria is the only one who drops the bass to get closer to her to look at her momentarily, as if making sure that all is well, and then gives her a short hug, which surprises both girls. "We heard about what happened with the paparazzi before. Are you okay?"

"Everything's fine, thanks. I guess you'll have to get used to that soon," Max shrugs but smiles, as if it no longer affects her.

The band starts playing in a few moments, when they are all in their positions, and Max can't help but shake her head to the beat of the song. Ethan's drums are compelling, the boy moving to the beat of the song and catching Max's attention whenever he has a solo along with Damiano's voice. Max is surprised by Thomas's ability, knowing that he is the youngest of the band, but even so his guitar is impressive, he perfectly masters the notes that correspond to him and he plays with the professionalism of someone much older.

They play Beggin' next, and Max nods approvingly when Damiano opens the song with his powerful voice, followed by Victoria's bass, and that's when Max nods more fervently and even smiles, noting that the Italian looks away momentarily of her instrument to find her blue eyes, and they smile between themselves, the Englishwoman encouraging Victoria to continue. The truth is that Max is truly impressed with the presence that all four have, the charisma and professionalism with which they express themselves on stage, it is worthy of admiration for such a young band.

They take a short break to hydrate and rest, and Max takes the opportunity to tell them everything he thinks. "That was honestly amazing. I have no recommendations for you: if this is just rehearsal, I can't begin to imagine what actually playing would be like. Though I can't understand what you say in most of your songs, the rhythm and your voice got me hooked. Keep up the good work, guys."

They are going to resume rehearsals, but Max's phone vibrates again and Simon's name appears on the screen. She rolls her eyes externally but gulps inside, because it's something she's been waiting for, and honestly, the sooner it happens the better. The four musicians notice the change in her mood, but say nothing when the girl apologizes and walks into the glass-enclosed room —and thankfully soundproofed.

"Hello, Simon."

"Hello, Simon? That's the best thing you have to say to me?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," Max shrugs, this time in a more defensive position. She hates feeling like a child being scolded by her parents.

The four Italians hide and seem to be taking care of their instruments, but they see out of the corner of their eyes how Max moves through the small cubicle and they look at each other. They can't hear the conversation or read the girl's lips, but the way she throws her hair back in exasperation, or how she shuts up and then sighs, makes them think Simon is yelling at her.

"I've told you many times, Theresa. Don't mess with the paparazzi if you don't want your face in the biggest scandal article there is. They will hunt down your life and make everything hell if you don't behave."

"I know that, Simon, I know, and I am always very careful around them, but this time they crossed a line: they brought Louis into this when he had nothing to do. Even worse, meddling with his personal life."

"I will not let your career be journalistically be gone because of someone like Louis."

"And I will behave as long as they don't mess with someone who I'm friends with. They do not touch Louis," Max growls.

"You listen to me, Theresa," Simon raises his voice on the other end of the line, and Max knows things are going to get ugly if she doesn't listen. "They ask questions? You either answer them nicely or ignore them. They ask questions about a topic you don't want? You ignore them. But don't ever be disrespectful or tell them off if you don't want anything bad written about you. I don't think you're aware of the power they have: they can destroy your career in just a day. Have I made myself clear?"

Max doesn't say anything at first because she's too busy clenching her jaw not to say any expletive directed at Simon, who is waiting for a response on the other end of the line, because he repeats the last sentence again. The Englishwoman raises her head for the first time, and discovers four pairs of eyes on her and their conversation on the other side of the glass, and she cannot help her cheeks from reddening a little when she knows she has been discovered, even if automatically the four of them seem too busy talking to each other.

"Perfectly clear, Simon."

And neither says anything else, because the man hangs up and Max puts the phone away immediately afterwards. The singer leaves the studio in a matter of seconds, without saying any word of apology to Maneskin, nor does she let them say anything about the situation.

"And then he says, 'you answer them nicely or ignore them'," Max snorts.

"Dickhead," say the two voices over the phone at the same time. Louis and Max laugh at the same time. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. It's honestly tiring keeping on hearing shit like that, but I guess we have to get used to it; they know no boundaries," Louis sighs. "I never told you this, but thank you for telling them off for me. Knowing myself, it would've been a real show if it was me who answered. It's nice knowing you've got me back."

"I always do," Max reminds him. "How was it?"

Louis doesn't need me to specify what she means. "I went twice this week. I plan on going twice a week from now on, too. Can't lie to you, it's been hard seeing the bottles there, but I'm being strong enough not to flip them open," Louis laughs, and although Max doesn't want to laugh because she knows it's serious, she doesn't want to feel that she's failing him, so she does. "I talked to Brianna, and she says I can have Freddie over by the end of the month if everything goes as planned, so I guess things are going better. Thanks for pushing me to be better. You're honestly one of the good things I've got out of this industry."

Max sighs peacefully and smiles a little. "I've got your back and you've got mine. Remember that, okay?"

"I do, and I will. Now I'll let you go to bed, you must be fuming still. Talk to you soon, Max."

The girl throws the phone carelessly to the other side of the bed and buries her face in one of the closest pillows, but her rest is short-lived, because she hears a timid knock on the other side of the door, and although she is tired, she does not want to seem rude. She would be lying if she said she is not happy to see Victoria in the hall.

"Hey there, stranger."

"Hey," Victoria sighs. "I've been thinking all evening if you'd like the company or if you'd rather be all alone because I still don't know you. However, I decided to think what I would like if it were myself in your situation, so I brought take out and good news: there's still four seasons left of Peaky Blinders for you —and me— to watch all night long," the italian says. She raises her hand with a cardboard bag that, honestly, emanates a delicious smell. When Max doesn't say anything, Victoria frowns. "Is it really a bad time?"

Max shakes her head as she rolls her eyes and drags Victoria into her room. "Come in, you loser."