"Is that dog hair on your jacket?"

Maverick looks down. "I thought I got all of them—"

"Kidding." I flick his nose. "You look good." His jacket does tie everything together well. Seeing Everleigh not too far away, I smile at my walking bi flag.

"So do you. Clean up nice." He flicks me back.

I mindlessly run my fingers along the pleated silk fabric. "Everleigh is stunning, of course."

"As is boy wonder."

"Between the two of them, I'm going to faint." They're standing right next to each other now. Eighteen-wheelers could be barreling toward me right this second and I wouldn't even notice. They're a sight for sore eyes.

He looks in their direction. "Can I say something you're not allowed to repeat?"

"Sure."

"I was....seconds away from trying to convince her that we should...you know, stay at the hotel instead of go to the ceremony when you texted. I almost did pass out." It's visible in his eyes; one wrong (or right) look and he'll be ready to drag Everleigh back to their hotel room.

"Honestly, totally valid. I almost jumped Brendon when he showed up at our door," I say, conveniently not mentioning that it's more or less what I did. What Maverick doesn't know doesn't hurt him or me.

"Stevie and Kingston found dead in Los Angeles," he says wistfully.

Bunch of horny bastards we are. Must be the August Leo energy. Or maybe it's a fire sign thing. Jun has been quite touchy with Lauren since she put her dress on.

I tear my eyes away from our Achilles heels. "Unfortunately, I have to see you lose your bet in person." Maverick does a terrible job at looking innocently aloof. "You didn't forget, did you?"

"I don't remember any bet." Where's a spare Razzie when you need one? Maybe I'll raid Maver's closet.

Jun hears the word bet come out of Maverick's mouth and flocks to us, ready to watch our friend's fatal flaw in action. Maybe his real Achilles heel is bets he'll never win. "Did you say Mav made another bet against you?"

"He sure did."

Maverick shakes his head. "Don't think so. Nope."

Jun looks at me. "And what's the bet?"

"Said he'd get my name tattooed if we won best duo/group."

He laughs. "What a spoon."

"I might've been under the influence when I made the bet," he says as if I didn't notice the slurring during that phone call. It might have taken a few repeats for me to understand what he was saying, but I haven't forgotten it since. "But...dare I ask, have you picked a spot for it yet? I vaguely remember saying you could."

"Shame I can't make it a tramp stamp."

Jun's eyes go wide as he processes the implication of my comment. "You have a tramp stamp?"

The silence drags for too long. "...No?"

I turn on my heel and call out to her. "Everleigh, can you describe the tramp stamp in detail while I decide on where this new tattoo should go?"

Not a second is wasted before Everleigh begins walking over to us.

Maverick shifts into panic mode. "Baby, you don't have to—"

"You know the Twilight font?"

"God damn it."

Jun nods. "Iconic font, yes."

"It's Kristen Stewart written in that font."

Maverick's eyes narrow. "Snitch."

Jun replies in the calmest voice possible. "I'm going to lose my mind."

"Okay, either above your butt or on your middle finger," I jump back in.

"I'm sorry but I need to see this one day," Jun continues.

Everleigh says, "I might have a picture of it."

"You do not—"

"You have my picture," Jun says, much to Maverick's chagrin.

Everleigh reaches into her dress—oh my god, it has pockets—and pulls out her phone. It only takes a few seconds for her to pull up the image and send it to him.

Realizing there's no return from this, Maverick looks at me as if I'm the mastermind behind this whole ordeal. Not sure where he's getting that idea from. "I definitely want to flip you off with your own name. Middle finger it is."

"Maybe Kristen will be here and you can flash her the tramp stamp."

A chuckle slips out of Jun as he looks at his phone. "This is the best and worst thing I've ever seen in my life." He turns his head. "Bash! Come look at this!"

A true Aries who thinks of conflict as entertainment. Namely, Maverick's conflict of being the butt of every MARS joke and taunt.

"I seriously should've gone back to bed," Maverick complains.

Brendon walks over and takes in the picture. "Is this Maverick with a Kristen Stewart tattoo?"

"I love that you guessed that without any context," I tell him.

He shrugs. "Seems like a Maverick thing to do."

"It was a bet," Maverick says defensively.

"Maybe that means you need to stop making bets that end up permanent," Everleigh replies.

        "For the record, the Kristen Stewart tattoo was a bet that I won."

        "Did you though?"

        "You really do need to stop making these bets," I tell him.

        He lifts his chin. "Are you calling off our bet then—"

        My response is immediate. "Absolutely not. We're winning this damn thing and I'm becoming immortalized on your middle finger."

        "Think you've immortalized yourself on your own, but sure,"

        Barf. Complimenting me and it's not even four p.m. yet?

        Jun mirrors my sentiments. "Ew, you two are complimenting each other."

        "I didn't say anything," I say. "Leave me alone."

        "I'll take it back. It's disgusting him. We don't want that."

        The rest of the group makes their way over as our cars pull up. It's impressive we've managed to stand out here this long without fans spotting us, even if it's the back entrance. The detective work that goes into fans finding out where celebrities' hotels are during awards seasons is impressive, to say the least.

        "Come on, you fiddleheads," Rami says. "The car is going to leave."

        Jenny stares at him, aghast. "Rami, not you too—"

        "What?" He shrugs. "It's kind of catchy."

        "I should have left with Marty."

        I won't be surprised if we barely see him tonight. His entire family is here for the ceremony and while he's handling behind-the-scenes issues for our performance, I'm sure he'll evade us as much as possible. I won't blame him for it.

        "Then who would make sure all of us make it there in one piece?" Seira asks. Her newly-dyed pink hair looks like cotton candy out in the sun.

        "If you win, I'd just accept it in your honor while you take a joyride to the hospital."

        "They know they're your favorite peas in a pod, Jenny," Maverick says. "Couldn't leave without them."

        She narrows her eyes. "And when I strangle you for starting this? Then what?"

        He tosses me the live grenade. "You can blame Stevie for the fact I'm not sleeping through the ceremony. She wanted me here." It's not like he was planning on doing any actual sleeping with Everleigh looking as she does.

        "You're literally nominated with them," she barks. "And I still owe you a smack for the Escape Velocity party photo booth incident."

        Theater kid strikes again when Maverick, without hesitation, sprints to the nearest vehicle and smacks his head on the door as he attempts to dive inside. I don't blame him for the evasive maneuvers, but he could've executed them a little more gracefully. Jenny would probably be more forgiving than the door.

        "Now you fucked up your hair, you radish." I roll my eyes.

        He rubs his head. "Going to look worse when Jenny kills me so it's fine. Get in the car. Don't be a—" He stops short when he catches Jenny's eyes. "—silly goose."

        Jenny pauses. "That's...fine."

        "Live to see another day, Mav." I applaud.

        She turns to me. "You're next, Stevie."

        This time, it's my turn to run away, but I do it much more successfully (and less embarrassingly) than Maverick, and I'm wearing heels. Take several seats, Maverick. The women in your life know how to get shit done.

        Rami shakes his head after making his way to the other car. "This should be...fun."

...

"That's...a lot of people."

        Managing my stress levels and anxiety in large crowds is something I'll always have to work on, but staring out at the sea of people in front of me right now sends my body on high alert. It's not just the sheer amount of people on the red carpet, it's the flashing cameras and live filming, waiting to capture every moment. I hate being in an environment where I have little to no control over what's going to happen.

        Brendon ducks his head to catch my eye. "You alright?" he asks.

        "Not sure if I have a pulse but I think I'm good."

        Maverick, equally as anxious and probably fighting off a panic attack, stares similarly out the crowd as I do. "What if we just sprint to where the nearest bottle of booze is and avoid the photographers—"

        "Sounds good to me." I nod.

        "Not sure how either of you thinks you're getting past all of that."

        "It's called a bisexual speedwalk," Maverick responds.

        Brendon rubs his thumb along my palm. "Which one of you bisexually trips on the way there?"

        Maverick glances down at my feet. "Stevie's the one in heels—"

        "Then again, you're you so—"

        "Alternatively, we can use Bash and Everleigh as shields."

        Everleigh rolls her eyes. "He says like Bash and Everleigh aren't sitting right here."

        "I think that's a good idea, yes." Nervous laughter bubbles out of me when I look outside again. I would be better off not psyching myself out but that's a tall order for an anxious bisexual. "And just to be sure, red carpet protocols means not holding each other in a headlock when they ask to take your pictures, okay? Please verbally respond so I know you heard me."

        My favorite girl responds right away. "Roger."

        Maverick nods like a fucking spoon.

        "Verbally," she hisses at him.

        "Uh-huh."

        God, one of us is going to end up trending for an unflattering reason. "That was not convincing."

        "I will not put anyone in a headlock on the red carpet but that doesn't mean I think it's a shitty idea to sprint to the liquor." Considering how well most of his ideas pan out—re: Kristen Stewart tramp stamp—I'm not sure anyone else in the car trusts him to not mess up that kind of plan.

        "Jenny is going to kill us," I groan. "And if she doesn't, Marty will put his Crocs in sport mode and hunt us down. We've all been warned."

        Deciding to be the adult in the group—Everleigh was a contender, however, she has taken notice of the crowd. Unlike the rest of us, she hasn't spent years under this kind of spotlight. It takes some getting used to—Brendon buttons up and steps out. "Alright then, let's go."

        I don't move. "On second thought, do we have to leave the car—"

        He keeps the door open enough that he can stand outside, but all of us are shielded. Brendon lowers to eye level.

        "Everyone else is standing outside and waiting for us. You can do this, Stev."

        His eyes never leave mine, determined to banish any bad thoughts. I drown out the world, listening to the sound of his voice. It smooths its way over my skin, calming my nerves into something a little more stable enough that I can brave going outside. It crosses my mind this is both ours and Maverick and Everleigh's red carpet debuts as couples. Knowing they're experiencing this at the same time makes me a little less nervous.

        "Fine, but Mav and I are getting shit-faced as soon as possible." Brendon doesn't argue and holds his hand out. I step out, inches away from the actual carpet. We're on the outskirts of the crowd, but people still take notice of us and wave in our direction. "Thanks, babe."

        "Of course," Brendon replies. He looks back inside once he's certain I'm standing steadily on my two feet, close enough to him I can hold his jacket. "Would Meadowlark like to make a quick getaway so she doesn't get stuck behind Mav?"

        "If it means I get off the carpet sooner, absolutely." She accepts her hand. "Thank, Bash."

        Save the best for last. "Maverick, no sudden movements, please."

        "I'm not that helpless," he protests.

        Considering we're all a little too close for comfort by the car door, it gets cramped when Maverick starts to exit. Throwing myself to the sharks, I step back to make room for him and Everleigh.

        Expecting our entrance to go smoothly is a tall order for people like Maverick and me. My heel catches my dress at the same time the toe of Maverick's shoe snags the edge of the car, and we both provide the all-too observant press a reason to talk about us. Luckily, Brendon and Everleigh help Maverick and me out respectively, not allowing us to completely fall flat on our faces.

        The rest of MARS is already outside and waiting for us, so they all catch our stumbles.

        "You two haven't made it more than three feet away from the car and you're already falling over yourselves," Lauren says.

        "Think tripping is better than puking." Maverick dusts himself off.

        Jun shoots me a look. "Don't say that to Stev—"

        Maybe I threw up this morning and Jun had to hold my hair back. Maybe I didn't. The way I pale at Maverick's comment is not a confirmation; just a coincidence.

        "Okay, but what if, hypothetically, I also puked earlier and now feel like I'm going to—"

        Brendon pulls me closer. "It'll be fun, I promise."

        "It'll be fun when I'm fuckin' drunk—"

        MARS decides to go ahead of us.

        I look back at the other two. "Is the gang ready?"

        Brendon is already stepping out. "Ask them. I'm not the one that almost ate it."

        "Ready as I'll ever be," Maverick answers.

        Everleigh either looks regretful for not taking up Maverick's offer of staying in the hotel all night or like she's ready to shit herself. Maybe the slightest shade of green. "Mhmm. Good. Ready."

        "God, Brendon's the only normal-looking person here." I turn back to him. Still my anchor keeping me in place amongst these choppy waters. "You know they're going to take your picture too, right?"

        He scoffs. "No one cares about me."

        The timing of the random voice cutting through the crowd is impeccable.

          "Hey, look! It's Brendon Ellis! Over here, man!"

        "As I said—" he continues.

        I push him along. Leo energy. Hold the disaster bisexual. "Okay, let's go."

        Walking down a red carpet either feels like five minutes or five hours; there's no in between. Everything happens in a blur. The only thing that tethers me to Earth is Brendon's hand. I don't even want to know how many pictures they get of us. I try not to think about what they look like. Living in the moment is easier when I'm not thinking about how it's getting captured to live forever on the internet. It becomes more manageable when we run into familiar faces that help distract me from all of the world's watchful eyes. Zoe, Monroe, and Lucy. Cruella Queen, a pop star up for Best New Artist that we met at a junket during Escape Velocity promo. Mick and Moxie. I get a few pictures between the two of them, as well as some with Jun since we're all nominated together. They're whisked away to the next photo spot with Moxie blowing me a kiss and wishing us good luck. (Not that you need the luck. MARS is going to kill it, she texts later.)

        Leaving the red carpet without taking pictures with Maverick and Everleigh is simply not possible. Despite her understandable nerves, Everleigh makes for a great partner. I kiss her cheek a little too long for some of them. Maverick and Brendon have their fun with the cameras, too. Including, for some damn reason, an all too perfect replication of the Titanic pose. It makes me laugh. A nice substitute for that booze I haven't spotted yet.

        We break apart once we start doing interviews. Hot on the heels of the end of his previous F1 season and not long until the next, Brendon gets swamped with his own questions. Jenny does her job to steer me in the direction of different news outlets.

        "Hi, Stevie!" One interviewer says. "Whitney George with E! News. You look beautiful today. Who are you wearing?"

        "Thank you!" I pull at my skirt. "This is a design by Kawehi Hamilton who's from Hawaii! Their work is amazing and I'm honored to bring a fellow kanaka's work with me here!"

        "You must be excited for tonight. Up for nine awards for yourself and bandmate Jun, and eight for MARS. How are you feeling? Any nerves?"

        I laugh. "Yeah, a little bit. But you kind of just have to...go or get left behind, you know?"

        "Fans are excited to see you here with Brendon Ellis. Unfortunate ending to the season for him."

        Understatement of the year. "Yeah, he deserved it. But it was still a great season and he's only going up from here." My eyes flick over to where he's being talked to, an award-worthy smile on his face. "Happy to have him here, though."

        "And I see you arrived with Maverick and his not-so-mystery friend anymore."

        "Disaster bi's are never too far away from each other."

        "Twitter already has MARSxMaverick trending awaiting your first live performance of The L together."

        "Honestly," I flick imaginary sweat off my forehead, "a miracle waiting to happen. Can't believe we managed to get the spoon here on time."

        Out of nowhere, an arm snakes across my shoulders, hooking around my neck. My eyes go wide before I realize it's Maverick with his impeccable timing and inability to follow the rules. Thankfully, there's no other version of him I want in my life. Also thankfully for him, Jenny is nowhere to be seen.

        He hugs me before coming to my side. "I was ready before you were, Kealoha."

        "That's only because we told you to be ready an hour earlier as a safety net."

        Whitney George looks between us. "If I remember correctly, Stevie went to your show last year in New York and you were a little late to that."

        "Thank you." I smile at them.

        Maverick holds back a laugh. "That was a lighting issue. Not my fault."

        Two can play at that game. I lean into his side and playfully slap him on the cheek. The cheek. "Maverick is so full of wonderful stories. That's what makes him such a great songwriter."

        He stares at me. War flashbacks in his eyes.

        Take that, bitch.

        "Anything we can look forward to seeing with your performance, Maverick?" Whitney asks.

        He turns back to them. "I will be on time. That's exciting."

        "We'll see about that," I scoff. If anyone can be late to a performance when they're already in the building, it's him. "If the commercial break is longer than usual, you'll know why."

        "I can't be late if I'm already here. New York wasn't my fault."

        I shake my head and look at Whitney. "He also says it's not his fault when he doesn't set the correct alarms before bed so—"

        "That's...been known. But I'm here. Nothing can go wrong."

        Famous last words.

        I don't blame them when Whitney George nods like they're ready to move along to the next attendee. "Okay well...best of luck. You look great too, Maverick. Before you go, who are you wearing?"

        "Indy Yamaguchi," he answers. "Check her out. LA-based. She's incredible."

        "Thanks for stopping by. Have a great night!"

        "You too!" I wave.

        "Thank you!"

        When I turn back to where I last saw Brendon, he's no longer there, and a glance at Maverick informs me Everleigh has also gotten out of dodge.

        "If those assholes found the alcohol without us—"

        "I mean, that was Everleigh's plan when I told her I was going to come bug you."

        "You should've faked an emergency so I could leave." Jenny calls out to me then and I wince. "I'll be back. Try not to trip again."

        "Good luck," he salutes.

        We part ways and I make it through another round of interviews with the rest of MARS. The ones with all five of us seldom go as smoothly as we want them to in this kind of environment. Too many people, too much energy. That's what makes them the most fun, but also tiring for the ones interviewing us. Pushing us to the next is a rite of passage.

        "Doing good?" Jun asks.

        I nod. "All good."

        "Where's boy wonder?"

        "Off being boy wonder."

        "Hot commodity."

        "Emphasis on—"

        "Stop being horny." He pushes me along.

        "Can you blame me?" I shoot a pointed look at Lauren. "Like you're one to talk."

        "Can you blame me?" he mocks with a laugh.

        After a few more minutes, I spot Maverick with Everleigh by his side. Blinding lights in deep space.

        Returning the favor, I sneak up behind him and tap his cheek again. "Jumpscare tax on the Grammys red carpet?"

        He nearly leaps out of his shoes. "Fuck almighty." Smacking a hand over his mouth, he gasps. "I'm so sorry."

        Everleigh laughs. "Well done, Kingston."

        "Speaking of jumpscares," I turn to the interviewer, "have you asked him his thoughts about Zootopia?"

        "Zootopia?"

         Maverick sighs. "I watched it recently. Great film. Don't know how it was for crot—children."

        "It...is animated," the interviewer says.

        "But it's got some dark elements."

        I laugh. "Pretty sure your niece wouldn't have jumped and she's one."

        "Kid probably has nerves of steel." Of course, the kid does. She's part Meadowlark.

        "Could teach you a thing or two."

        Maverick agrees. "Probably."

        "Definitely," Everleigh echoes.

        "While we have you here, Stevie," the interviewer turns to me, "anything you're looking forward to tonight and onward? Any big plans for MARS?"

        "Excited to play The L for the first time with Maverick. And after this, we're just getting ready to go on tour so our year will be pretty busy. Good busy, though."

        "And what about Brendon Ellis? Will he be a roadie before the season starts again? Or is he falling back into the F1 regime?"

        "He starts training again soon before the season start but some of our tour dates line up with a few of the races next year so hopefully, you'll see us around. He'll be very busy getting the title he deserves." I smile.

        "Well, we look forward to seeing him bring it home. I won't keep you much longer, but anything else you'd like to tell the people watching?"

        "I'm Stevie's number one fan," Maverick quips.

        Would have been better off telling Everleigh to go fuck herself. "You shouldn't give your fans false information."

        "Fine," he concedes. "I'll be Stevie's second biggest fan."

        "Maybe Bash is second."

        "Thought you were sharing first."

        "Debatable today."

        "They are dating," Maverick gawks.

        "He's Stevie's third biggest fan. TBD on the biggest."

        I hold up a finger. "For the record, I am Everleigh's number one fan."

        "Um—False," Maverick argues. "I get to have that title. Thank you."

        "Everleigh and I are each other's number one fans," I continue as if he's John C. Reilly a la Chicago. "It's true."

        Sneaking up behind me at just the right time, Brendon leans down to kiss my cheek, and I fold like a flower petal underneath his spring rainstorm. "She's lying. I'm Stevie's number one fan. Leigh and I can share MARS' number one fan, though."

        "You can have that one tonight, I suppose," Everleigh says, though she looks at us like she's watching two baby birds take flight for the first time. "If you're nice about it."

        "How generous," Brendon replies, equally as charmed by this moment between the four of us.

        "You're welcome."

        Another interviewer ready to dump as off onto the next. "Okay, we'll let you go. Thank you so much!"

        "Thank you!" I croon. "Still her biggest fan!"

        "That's fake news," Maverick interjects, "but thank you!" He begins dragging Everleigh away and we follow behind into the building.

        MARS is near the entrance and watch us enter.

        "Nice of you all to make it," Seira says.

        Jenny's glare is deadly. If looks could kill, Maverick would be ten thousand feet under. "You're on thin ice for the headlock, Kingston John Maverick."

        "I did no such thing. That was my doppelganger."

        She takes one step in his direction. "Come again?"

He squeals and hides behind his girlfriend.

        "Nothing."

        "My hero," Everleigh deadpans.

        "That's what I thought." Jenny dusts her hands off. "Anyway, your seats are up there. With your name on it so I hope it won't be difficult for you to find. If it is, figure it out on your own, and don't embarrass me. Marty and his family are a few rows behind if you need something."

        I salute. "Aye aye, captain."

        "I'll meet you guys backstage before the performance. But before this all starts, just remember that no matter what happens, we're all extremely proud of you for getting her. You too, Mav."

        He peeks out. "Thanks, bestie."

        "And please, remember to pee before the show starts. Yes, I'm looking at you, Maverick. If you guys pull through, we don't need anyone missing their speech. Got it?"

        "Why me?"

         She glares at him because this is not a question that needs answering.

        "Yes, ma'am," he replies.

        Jenny waves us off. "Okay, get lost. Make me proud."