"God, why do we have to be so close to the front—"

        "Almost like you're up for eight awards," Maverick says.

        "It's nine, actually, but the camera is going to be so close to my damn face. I hate it."

        Brendon leans forward in his seat so he can brush my hair behind my ear. "You look beautiful."

        "Can someone just knock me out so I don't have to worry about it—"

        Jun's cheeks are a little too red to be sober. "Should've gotten drunk like we did."

        "Shocked you didn't," Everleigh says.

        Maverick stares. "Shouldn't you be encouraging them to drink water or something, nurse?"

        "I'm off duty. And drinking helps."

        My phone is out by the time she stops. "I'm texting Jenny to see if someone can bring us champagne."

        "Maybe they have some—" Jun starts.

        Lauren places her hand over his. "Baby, they don't have Capri Sun. Nice try."

        He slinks into his chair. "Why not—"

        "Here," Everleigh says before reaching into her pockets. Surprising all of us, most of all Jun, she pulls out a Capri Sun. Hawai'i Cooler, of course. She hands it to him and he accepts the pouch like it's a handful of gold. "Enjoy."

        Maverick's jaw nearly drops to the floor. "No actual way you had that in your damn pocket."

        "I literally love you. You can have as many sneak peeks as you want. You're an honorary member of MARS now."

        "It's the only one I brought. Enjoy it."

        Seira nods toward the stage. "The stage is turning on."

        "End me now. I can't breathe." A server walks over to us with a flute of champagne on the tray—bless the almighty Jenny—and I accept it faster than Maverick and a bad bet. "God, thank you so much. You're a lifesaver."

        Brendon rubs the back of my neck and I dissolve like champagne bubbles. "Better?"

        "Much better."

        Rami leans over Seira. "Smile for the cameras. If you need to pee in the middle of the ceremony, don't let Jenny see."

        The lights dim as we all nod. My heart takes flight inside my chest, forcing a puff of air past my lips. I look behind and Brendon gives a gentle, encouraging smile.

        I briefly catch Maverick's eyes before I turn around. Being as close as we are means knowing what the other is thinking without having to say something. No matter what he tells himself, this night means as much to him as it does to us, and he's doing everything to maintain his composure.

        "Hey, Mav?"

        He looks at me. "Yes?"

        I hand my champagne flute to Seira and turn back, Starting by pinching my fingers together to form circles, followed by holding up a single finger, I sign, "No one else I'd rather have with us for this. I love you."

        Cross any ocean, battle any demons, conquer any fatal flaws. I have a lot to learn, but while our first language is music, we understand each other in every other way. Watching him cry when he realizes what I'm doing is worth all the practice learning ASL. (Seira and Brendon make great partners.)(I don't think Maverick would recover if he realized we all started learning it.)

        He points at me. You. Holding his hands flat near his chest, perpendicular to the floor, before moving them together. Little. A thumbs up while the other hand grabs it and pulls upward. Shit.

        I laugh.

        "I love you," he finishes. "A. O. T. Y."

        Even if I'm the one that started it, I still hate him for making me cry. "Ugh, stop crying, you loser. Now I'm going to cry and my mascara is going to run."

        The tears keep falling. Like a cold Hawaii winter morning where the remnants of a late-night rainstorm still drip from the roof, and you don't quite want the sun to come up yet. The earth always heals after the heavens cry.

        "Blame you," he signs.

        "Oh, and before I forget—" I repeat the first thing I showed Brendon. Everleigh watches, already laughing after I sign her name. Maverick's sad pout twists into a smile. "Everleigh likes my music better than yours."

        His laugh joins Everleigh's in perfect harmony. He runs his hand under his chin and flicks it out at me instead of flipping me off. Save that for when he (hopefully) has to get my name tattooed on his middle finger.

        "True," she signs, holding her index finger to her lips before pointing at me.

        "You—" Maverick signs his death certificate by holding her in a headlock in the middle of the damn Grammys.

        Brendon gawks, "Is it too late to switch seats?"

        Rami looks up from his phone. "Jenny just texted and said to tell Maverick she's coming over if he doesn't release Everleigh in 3, 2—"

        The wave releases from his shore. "How come it's always me she's watching?"

        "Pretty sure the headlock answers that question."

        Putting a stop to the hurricane that is our friend group, WELCOME TO THE 65TH ANNUAL GRAMMY AWARDS materializes in front of us in gold and white font. Crisp, clean lines. The complete opposite of the static inside my chest.

        The stage ignites to life with flashes of orange, yellow, and pink. Lightning bolts from the ceilings. Fog collects along the ground. Cruella Queen struts onto the stage with enough edge to cut through diamond, though she looks soft enough to convince me angels are real. There's no turning away from this performance.

        After Cruella exits, the host walks onto the stage. It takes a few beats for the applause to die down after her arrival.

        "Hello everyone, and welcome to the 65th Grammy Awards. I'm your host, Jensen Rhodes, here to hopefully keep you from falling asleep or on your face—though I have heard rumors there were a couple of close calls on the carpet earlier." Laughing is unavoidable. Looking back on our stumble is infinitely better than living through it. "You may recognize me from the show Legendary, or the movie Sparks Fly, and you might be wondering what that random Canadian actress is doing hosting the Grammys. Contractually, I can't tell you." The crowd laughs. "Kidding, kidding. I have some musical history. I was in a production of RENT back in Vancouver when I was younger. I played Mimi Marquez, the stripper who we remember for her singing ability, and not her leather pants that each lead and understudy had to be sewn into eight shows a week. I had the time of my life on that stage, really. Some of our best memories in life are tied to the music that brought those memories in the first place.

        "All of our nominees this evening have shown the world their ability to write and produce the world's greatest tracks of the last year. In the building tonight, we have record-breakers returning for awards they missed out on last time they were here, artists with their first nominations, and everyone in between. Tonight's a night of celebration, of amazing music, and of showing our appreciation for the winners and their fellow nominees. A reminder to the winners: we have a time limit for speeches. Thank your parents, your guardians, your managers, your peers, your goldfish. Thank that one boy in sixth grade who broke your heart and became your muse. Anything you want. But let's keep this rolling. The grapevine's told me we have a first-timer who's not so good with time." More laughter. Maverick, you are the moment, whether you want to be or not. Jensen claps her hands together. "Thank you all for being here tonight. I hope you have a great time. We've got a great show ahead."

        Jensen gets the presentations started with an award from the classical genre. Award shows aren't for everyone. I don't blame anyone for dozing off, even though I'm a band geek at heart so I still find enjoyment in watching these awards being handed out. Classical. Jazz. Producers. I'm an artist who appreciates other artists. I cling to every moment of tonight like it's the last time I'll ever be here.

        "For our next presenters, please welcome Zoe Davis and Lucy Cohen to the stage!"

        The two actresses walk onto the stage and they shine as bright as the trophies themselves.

        "We are so happy to be here tonight to present the award for Best New Artist," Zoe says. "Tonight's eight nominees are some of the brightest upcoming stars, and we know every single one of them has a long future ahead of them."

        "And what's so great about them is their willingness to share the spotlight. Because in our house, we love sharing. Unlike other costars," Lucy finishes with a flair.

        "Razzies in the Catacombs, am I right?" Zoe chides.

        "Enough about fossils, though," Lucy continues. "I'm standing next to an Oscar winner. Here are your nominees for Best New Artist."

        After the groundbreaking performance at the start of the ceremony, it's no surprise to see Cruella Queen take home the crown.

        "Oh my gosh," she breathes. " I just—I don't even know what to say but thank you so much to the Recording Academy for this honor. This is more than I could have ever asked for, especially being nominated alongside such a talented group of people. Please, give these artists a round of applause because you all inspire me every single day. Truly." What Cruella wants, Cruella gets. "Thank you to my mom for being the best shoulder to cry on, whether they're happy or sad tears. There are a lot of them. And to my partner for making this wild life a little less chaotic. My manager Lenny. Everyone at Rocky Road Records for believing in me. And I'm sure I'm forgetting so many people but everyone that made this possible. Thank you. I love you."

        Jensen comes back to welcome the next presenter, Maddox Tacoma.

        "When it comes to music videos—"

        Here it is. First one up.

        "I think we all remember Michael Jackson's Thriller. The one that started us into storytelling rather than just the music in the video. Now that we're almost forty years past that, music videos have evolved into heights that we never thought possible, becoming features of their own. This year, we've been sent to Mars, we've seen gladiator battles, and we've seen one or two arguments by some talented actors in our music videos. The nominees for Best Music Video are..."

        The reel of nominees plays with clips from each video. Even when I close my eyes, I know as soon as ours appears because Maverick whistles loud enough to cut through the rest of the noise.

        Maddox shakes the envelope. "And the Grammy goes to...Overnight Rush by MARS."

        "Fuck," I gasp.

        I can't see three feet in front of me.

        MARS are officially Grammy winners.

        I vaguely see Maverick jump to his feet from the corner of my eye. Everything blurs into nothing. The static within me becomes me. I rise to my feet along with my friends, all of us in varying shades of shock. Before we all march up to the stage, I blow a kiss to my favorite three. If I could stop time, I'd spend eternity thanking them for being here, for being who they are, for helping us even make it to this stage. I'd thank them for teaching me how to love myself and allowing me to love them. I have to settle for the air kiss.

        There's no one else that can take the lead from Rami, so he steps up to the mic after accepting the Grammy from Maddox.

        "Ah, we're a little speechless, to be honest," Rami laughs to alleviate the shock. "Thank you to the Recording Academy for this honor. We all had the time of our lives filming this music video, and I had the great honor of my friends here trusting me enough to direct it. This album and song, specifically, were meant to showcase a very formative part of our lives, and we hoped this video would resonate with everyone from any walk of life. Thank you to our tireless crew that helped us make it happen, to our manager and assistant Marty and Jenny for keeping us down to Earth, and to everyone that's supported us. Thank you so much, we'll never forget this."

        They usher us backstage to take pictures with our award. The entire time, I feel like I'm floating in zero gravity, not quite in control of my limbs, head somewhere in the clouds. Our friends are bursting with pride once we return to our seats, and I wonder if it's possible to bottle it up for those days when I struggle to remember my worth.

        It doesn't feel any less unbelievable when we go up there again after winning Best Alternative Music Performance for Thousand Miles and Best Alternative Album. Luckily, I'm not assigned up to bat for either speech. I laugh at Jun's parting remark for one of them.

        "Shoutout to Hawai'i Cooler Capri Sun! Best drink you'll ever have in your life!" A real dork but that's why we love him.

        Other awards are handed out. I can't count how many tears are shed, smiles shared, love thrown around within just a handful of words while a timer counts down off in the distance. As I look around, I realize how universal this feeling is that I'm harboring. I'm experiencing a lot of firsts, but so are a lot of other people. So many dreams are being made tonight, and I am just one among the many.

        When our performance comes up, I'm a bundle of nerves all over again. Maverick unintentionally makes his state of mind known and our anxiety collides into a frightful frenzy.

        "Hey, Mav," Rami says. "Do me a favor?"

        "Yup?"

        "Stop kicking my chair."

        "I'm not—" Maverick looks down at his leg. "Oh my god, I am. I am not a seasoned professional here. My bad."

        "It'll be fine." Rami is good at handling someone in stress (see: me) but even he has his limits. "You've done this a hundred times."

        "Yeah, but not at the Grammys," I say.

        "Stevie, don't encourage—" He stares at me. "Are you also bouncing your damn leg?"

        "You might as well ask if we're both bisexuals because the answer is yes."

        "Explain Jun and Lauren not doing that then—"

        "They're not the disaster variety, Seira."

        "Jenny is going to kill you both," Jun says.

        Maverick comes in with a 1-2 for the August Leos. "Is now a bad time to say I think I have to go to the bathroom—"

        A producer arrives to escort us backstage for our performance. Perfect timing before Maverick and I implode. We rise from our seats and I shoot Brendon a look. "Don't fall in love with my seat filler."

        "Stop. Go."

        We walk backstage and MARS does a quick outfit change. When we come out of our dressing rooms, Maverick is waiting sans jacket and with his sleeves rolled up.

        "To the end," Rami says, and we repeat it back to him.

        "To the end," I sign to Maverick. He nods—one last tug of the hand and a deep breath or two—before he pulls away to set up.

        After the commercial break ends, the stage goes pitch black. We stand out of reach, hidden by the absence of light before our silhouettes illuminate under a pink glow. An acapella rendition of Thousand Miles and Run the Red trickles in slowly before a spotlight shines on Maverick off to the side playing the piano. He shines like the star he truly is—the brightest in the entire galaxy. In seconds, he's surrounded by a cloud of purple.

        Every time I get the honor of seeing him live, I remember why I became an artist myself. It's because of people like him blazing a trail I get to help carve into something for myself.

        The lights turn on before the part of his verse where he mentions F1, and instead of singing it, I take over. "If there weren't rules about carpool and speed / We'd be racing out of here like F1, you see / Ain't gotta catch the bus like Sandra and Reeves / already out here pushing it / Pace of my heart exceed— / —ing two-sixty at the Grand Prix."

        My verse comes and I sing the beginning before Maverick takes over the section about Everleigh. In a microscopic glimpse as I waltz across the stage, I see her stare up at her Maverick, watching the universe born right in front of her. I almost cry thinking about Dewey barking at his TV, and seeing his dad on the screen. "Steady my feet on this holy ground / catch a flight to my head lost in the clouds / Missed connections and flight attendants / all I want for you is to hang around / Turn this lost into a found."

        We come together to sing the chorus, voices blending like watercolor on a blank canvas on display for the rest of the world. It's a wonder sometimes when you can look back and realize how long you've been friends with someone. When I look at Maverick beside me on that stage, I know we'll be there through it all. Even when the music stops—for both of us at different times and for different reasons—we'll still remember the sound of each other's heartbeats.

        As the song transitions into Overnight Rush, Maverick takes his leave. Blue lights fall upon us and carry us through to our final song, Escape Velocity. The composition has been altered to tie into the vibe of Nuclear Fusion, the album that started it all. Maybe it didn't win during its Grammy Award ceremony, but it still deserves its dues.

        We take our bows to thunderous applause. Playing solely to fans is different than playing to a room full of your peers, and we welcome this chance to prove ourselves worthy of the praise.

        "Where did Mav go?" I ask when we come back to our seats and Maverick is nowhere to be found.

        "He, um—You know that thing Jenny warned you to do before the show—"

        "Are you kidding me? Right now?"

        Rami stares up at the stage from his seat. "They're announcing Duo/Group next..."

        "He said, and I quote, Everleigh I'll piss myself if I wait any longer."

        "I'm surprised there's no angry texts from Jenny yet but okay."

        "He actually managed to run away without her noticing?"

        "Way to go, Mav."

        The next presenter is called up to the stage and Everleigh flies to text Maverick about coming back to his seat. Unfortunately for him, their introduction speech isn't long and before we know it, the nominees' reel is playing while he's still not back.

        "And the Grammy goes to...The L by MARS featuring Maverick!"

       Score one Grammy for the spoon while he's taking a piss. Is it even possible for tonight to go any other way?

        We all stand up again and blow our kisses to Brendon and Everleigh while the latter looks for her Kingston. (Talk about turning this lost into a found, Maverick.) As we walk up to the stage, a side door opens to reveal our friend and he sprints past an angry-looking Jenny and up to collect his first-ever Grammy.

        "Are you serious, Maverick?" I ask.

        "Here on time and still late?" He pants. "I know, I know. I'm sorry."

        "You're such a damn spoon." I reach my arms out and he folds into me, burying his face into my shoulder. "We did it, Kingston. You did it."

        He shakes with tears and I pull him along with us, only marginally more stable than him. Seeing him cry will always send me into my own fit of waterworks.

        The two of us sign our speeches, even the stumbles.

        "Okay, I'm less of a mess so I guess I'll start us off. You know, life can be a little hit or miss sometimes. People come and go. It's just...life. But then someone like Maverick comes in and it feels like everything is brand new again. It all starts to make sense and you hardly remember a time before him. He makes everything better, always. MARS is incredibly lucky to be inspired by someone like him and even luckier, we can call him a friend. I'm the luckiest to have met my soulmate and to know that we have each other across every universe. This song, and MARS, would be nothing without him, his talent, and the endless magic with which he shines. Please give him a round of applause because he truly deserves this."

        "I—um—" He stumbles over his words—gracefully by Maverick's standards—and looks at me. "I should've been on time so I could've gone first and cried while you spoke. Um." He attempts to wipe away some tears but they can't stop replenishing themselves. "There comes a moment in your life when you think that you've made it and that nothing can be better. And then you meet your best friend and her amazing band, and you think, oh, this is it. I've been waiting for this moment. Then they ask you to feature on their song and then you get nominated for a Grammy together and now we're here. Winning that Grammy. I don't think saying thank you is enough, but I'll say it anyway. Thank you for even considering me for the project, let alone choosing me for it. Um. Thank you for the laughs and this embarrassingly long cry—" He laughs. "—thank you... Thank you, MARS... for being my moment."

        I swipe away a tear. Thank you, Maverick, for being my forever.

...

UP NEXT: ALBUM OF THE YEAR

"Everleigh, you know CPR, right?"

        "I do indeed."

        After winning Record of the Year and Song of the year—speeches are given by Seira and Lauren respectively—we wait with bated breath for the final award.

        "Ok, perfect. Might need some soon."

        "Can also use the AED by the exit."

        "Or are you just saying that 'cause you want to kiss her—" Maverick asks.

        "Maybe both."

        Jun laughs. "Bash is sitting right there."

        "That's her hall pass, I guess."

        "Might get broken ribs from it, but it's only, like, a 30 percent chance," Everleigh continues.

        "If I don't survive, at least I'll die happy in your arms."

        "I'm sure that's exactly what she wanted to hear coming out of her Masters," Maverick says. "Thanks, Stevie."

        "My pleasure."

        "Knork."

        "Parsnip." The lights dim, signaling the end of the commercial break. Jensen walks back onto the stage. "Okay, okay, okay. Let's go."

        I grab Jun and Seira's hands and watch as all of us slowly connect. The camera crew starts making their way over to us and the rest of the nominees so they can film our reactions. This film we're living in goes into slow-mo until Jensen starts talking.

        "As we close out the night, we want to recognize each artist that gave everything they had to their music in the last year. There can only be one who comes home with a trophy—or, rather, one group—but that doesn't mean that you should be any less proud of your achievements that got you here tonight. Round of applause for all the nominees this evening." Everyone in the audience claps. "For our final award of the night, our nominees for Album of the Year are..."

        Emotions surge through me as I watch clips of the Overnight Rush music video above the text—ALBUM OF THE YEAR NOMINEE: ESCAPE VELOCITY, MARS.

        We share one final look. A walk to the edge of the cliff before we jump off together, all of the universe waiting for us on the other side. Win or lose, MARS, this is the adventure of a lifetime.

        "And the Grammy goes to..."

        I remember the first time I realized I loved to sing.

        Mom, Dad, and I were at a coworker's kid's first birthday lu'au, somewhere in Pearly City, if I'm remembering correctly. The family was mixed Hawaiian and Filipino, so someone breaking out a karaoke machine was inevitable. After a little too much good food and drinks, my dad had gone up to the mic and belted out a Queen song that brought the entire house down.

        After seeing me scream and clap and cheer for him like he was the greatest singer I've ever met—he wasn't the best singer but he was still the greatest—my dad called me over and handed me the mic. I stared down at it, not sure what to do. I sang plenty in the shower or when I thought no one else was home, earphones plugging out the rest of the world, but never in front of other people.

        As soon as the music started, I couldn't stop. It poured out of me in waves upon waves, until I realized the rest of the party was staying quiet just letting me shine. Maybe that night was the first time I learned about how brightly stars shine, and that I could be one of them.

        "My little Stevie," my dad said when I returned and hopped into his lap. Pressing a kiss to my forehead, he added, "You'll rule the world one day, baby."

        "Really?"

        "Yes. And when you do, remember that I love you so much. Don't ever forget that."

        I laughed. "You're silly, daddy. I'd never forget that."

        I would give anything to have him here.

        "...Escape Velocity by MARS!"

        Streams of pink, purple, and blue confetti shoot across like a meteor shower. Everyone in the room jumps to their feet while I crumble into my hands, unable to process that this is happening. Jun has to pull me up, quickly pressing a kiss to my cheek before I turn around.

        Brendon cuts through all the static to find me—he's good at that. Good at finding me no matter how lost inside myself I end up. Always the good thing in my life. I lean over the back of my chair and kiss him as confetti showers us in a kaleidoscope of color.

        On our kiss, I taste the salt of Hawaii's waters in my tears and my other home in his.

        Standing up on that stage for the final time is surreal. To think being here was so out of reach, only to end up in this exact place as many times as we do, is more than I can handle. It doesn't seem like the applause will ever stop.

        I think back to Brasil. Doing the damn thing and then doing it again and again. Looking out at the world in front of us and realizing it's all one small part of an entire journey.

        When I see Maverick, Everleigh, and Brendon in the crowd staring at us with pride and tears of joy, I realize the Grammys have never been the end game. They're a happy chance in life that will be followed by many others, and most of that happiness will have nothing to do with awards. They'll be the people we met, the stars we became, and the memories we've all shared along the way.

        "Okay, you're probably all tired of seeing us at this point so I'm very sorry." Rami laughs. "And a round of applause for the loveliest host. You've been amazing, Jensen. Thank you once again to the Recording Academy for this incredible honor. We've thanked every possible person at this point so to everyone that made this possible, and you know who you are, thank you again, but I'm going to be a little selfish and focus on the people beside me because there's no one more deserving of this honor." Rami pauses to look at us. "There are a lot of things I could say about these four and it would never amount to what they've given me. We've seen each other through absolutely everything, which is great because there's no one else I'd rather walk through life with. They show me time and time again what it means to be authentic, vulnerable, courageous, and strong. Day after day, we fall in love with each other and life a million times over. I'm a better person for knowing them, and I can't wait to grow old with them, knowing we've done all we can to show the world what we're made of. No matter what life throws our way, I know we'll make it through together.

        "Escape Velocity has been a labor of love. An ode to those who never felt like we had a place in this world, and so we forced ourselves into one because it's what we deserve. A voice to those who have spent too long being silenced. A reminder that to love is one of the greatest honors. We're so very proud of the communities and cultures we all represent. Proud to stand up for what's right in this world. Proud of ourselves for pushing past the noise and finding the music we all feel within us. Thank you to all of you, but especially to my best friends for making tonight the most unforgettable night. And to everyone at home or on the Supreme Court of the United States, that abortion is healthcare and healthcare is a human right. We will never stop fighting for everyone. Have a great night."

        Overnight Rush brings us home. A perfect ending to a perfect night. And a perfectly happy continuance to the rest of our lives.