"And remember, put on comfortable clothes: nobody is going to wear their best clothes, they just want to dance, chat quietly and drink for a while. Bring your ID in case one of the managers asks you for it. No matter how much they know you, they won't let you in, I assure you," Max warns when they get out of the van, but she's not sure if Maneskin's members are listening to her, either because she is not clearly heard with the crowd, or because they are too excited about the party. "Not everyone there will be famous, so it is possible that some of the rich men who go want to take advantage of their moment of fame with you, so don't accept drinks or any other substances from them, understand?" One by one they nod their heads, but the excited smiles never leave their faces, and Max understands that those are their first steps into real fame, and she sighs remembering how her first moments were.

As much as she doesn't really trust Sony and other producers, she is eternally grateful that they decided to host her in her days, because that is how she met very good people in her life. She met Louis when he was a judge on The X Factor and the former One Direction member decided to trust her. She was disqualified in later rounds, but kept in touch with both Simon and Louis, who in addition to being a mentor became a good friend. Louis was still on Simon's label when they met, but soon after his contract expired and he left, and Max stayed with Simon because she knew she couldn't break her contract.

Even so, she maintains close contact with Louis. They text each other from time to time, maybe they call each other some afternoon or they send voice audios when they are partying and they remember each other, and that makes Max happy because she only does it with her best friends, and she understands that Louis feels for her the same as she does for him. There are a good number of years of difference between them, but nobody understands the problems of the industry as much as he does, and that makes Max lean on the boy especially from her beginnings, when she didn't understand anything of what was happening.

"Everybody upstairs then," Max exclaims, clapping her hands. "I'll wait for you in the lobby. Do not be late because they will come to pick us up in exactly... twenty-two minutes."

It doesn't take long for the girl to change her clothes, because she decides to follow her own advice not to wear fancy clothes. She chooses a white blouse and skinny jeans, finishing her look with not too high heels, because she knows that in no time she will be wanting to take a seat and she is too excited to want her night to end soon. Her personal stylist always says not to do too much on her hair because it can ruin it, nor to apply large amounts of makeup because she already has very beautiful blue eyes; but Max, as usual, ignores it, and decides to put on eyeshadow and intense eyeliner with a maroon lipstick, since she is sure that Italians will be faithful to their style and she wants to go along with them.

In about ten minutes she is already in the lobby waiting for Maneskin, and in the meantime she decides to open Twitter. Her notifications are triggered since that morning, and she supposes that the news that she is with the new trendy music group has already spread through all social networks. However, she also sees that her name appears in several mentions next to Louis's name, so she decides to click on his profile and see what the boy has uploaded.

She smiles broadly when she sees a photo of Louis in a cap and long hair, his lips pursed and his fingers making the peace sign, his dog on his lap and the following capture: "Quiet afternoon at home, tonight we will have some action ! @TessaMax x". The girl likes the tweet, and inevitably gets more notifications from people who have seen the interaction. She decides not to take a photo because she does not want to reveal her outfit, but instead responds in writing to her message: "Let me cut your hair, lil' boy," and her interactions rise again, so she silences Twitter and leaves her phone without waiting for Louis to reply so quickly to her answer.

Not much time passes when she nods because Maneskin are punctual, hearing their voices coming down the stairs, and Max opens her eyes wide because she has told them comfortable outfits, not platform boots, leather pants or open shirts, but decides not to comment on their decisions because she sees them happy and excited, and honestly their hairstyles and makeup look too good to point to Damiano's bare chest.

"You look great. I might want to borrow that bandana, Ethan, it looks quite lovely," the boy was about to reply something, but a beep in front of the hotel interrupts them, and Max bows, wanting to imitate Damiano in his performance at Eurovision. "Time to go, lady and gentlemen."

At that time only a few fans are still at the doors of the hotel, and although everyone is eager to stop and take some photos, the bodyguards urge them to quickly get into the van, so they blow them a few kisses and promise to stay talking the next morning if they decide to go again. They quickly take a seat in the van —which looks more like a limousine from the inside— as it moves with speed and Max is about to fall on top of Thomas if not for Victoria, who holds her arm firmly and restrains her next to her, to which Max responds with a grateful smile.

"Should we start...?" Damiano nods to a small refrigerator, where there are bottles of champagne and the occasional stronger alcohol. Max raises an eyebrow, as if to reproach him for wanting to get drunk now, but the facade is short-lived, as she nods quickly but orders them to wait. She rummages through the bottles and pulls out one of tequila. Thomas brings up five shot glasses and Max does the honors of filling them.

"Cheers!" The Englishwoman yells, and the others follow her chant, raising the drink to their mouths, making faces of disgust as if it were too strong for them.

"What should we expect from the party?" Victoria asks, running her hand over her lips —luckily she chose a permanent lipstick— to remove the traces of alcohol.

"Louis' parties are usually pretty crazy. Glasses of alcohol are handed out throughout the night, you can even order custom drinks if he's in a good mood. The music is good, Louis likes the music of the 80s and 90s, a lot of rock and above all something to sing out loud and be hoarse the next morning. As I tell you, you may recognize a famous face, but not everyone who goes will be a celebrity: there will also be friends of his, people from his team to control that things don't go out of line, or people who have some kind of connection with someone from the team who has let them in in exchange for a good amount of money and the promise not to get anything on their phone, less even something that could harm the image of the public figures there. Therefore, you have nothing to worry about: dance, sing, drink if you want, meet new people, but always with care."

"Okay, I'm not saying this has happened before, but can we take people to the hotel?" Damiano asks, and Max has little time to be shocked.

"Not! Come on, it's our first party together, and we have to enjoy it together. I hope I don't see any of you with your tongue in the throat of the first stranger you see," Max threatens playfully. "I really wouldn't mind if you wanted to bring someone into your room, but having a one-night stand at your first party here wouldn't do your image a favour. Anyway, if you want to do it, at least make sure that the person is discreet and that no one else finds out."

The car slows as the laughter inside the car fades, and Max thinks that the work of the drivers and bodyguards is not be paid enough to hear those conversations. So Max says good night to the driver, making the four Italians imitate her gesture, so that at least he takes a good memory of them. To the surprise and delight of the English, there are not too many paparazzi at the entrance of the pub, just a few groups of well-dressed people trying to enter, aware that a private party is being held inside.

It doesn't take long for Max and the group to enter the pub, which is lit up with blinking red and blue lights, and it takes the five of them a few seconds to get used to the intense light and darkness. The music begins to flood their ears, and Thomas seems to recognize the song that's playing, because he lets out a howl of excitement and grins widely. "Welcome to the show. Let the party begin!" And the others join in her exclamation.

"I didn't expect to see you around so soon," a voice behind them makes the five of them turn, and Max makes a huge smile when she sees Louis in front of her, a glass in his hand and open arms welcoming her.

Max gladly accepts the gesture, taking refuge in the calm that the boy and his expensive perfume have always provided. "I wouldn't miss this party for the world. Louis, they are Ethan, Victoria, Damiano and Thomas."

"Oh God, the Eurovision winners. Absolutely loved the song, completely the style that is being missed now. Grab whatever you wish, loads of drinks, loads of good music, loads of fun. See you around!"

Louis amiably squeezes Max's arm in goodbye and disappears into the crowd. Although Max is aware that Louis' music is not the style of Italians, she knows from the expressions on their faces that they are impressed to meet someone of the stature of One Direction. Ethan leans close to her ear to be heard over the music. "Is every famous person that nice?"

"Oh, definitely not. You'll come across moody people, people who will look down on you because you're not famous enough for them. But don't worry, my friends, as long as you're with me, you'll be surrounded with kind people. Louis is the first proof of that!" Max answers in a louder voice than normal in reply so that the other three can also hear her answer, to which they reply with thumbs up. "I just remembered, there's a rule," Max urges them to come closer to her and be able to hear her, and their faces seem somewhat more downcast knowing that there will be control over them. "Which is to have fun! Now, first round is on me. You can't say then English people aren't welcoming!"

This time Max only sees how their mouths open, because the music is too loud to try to perceive the sounds that come from their lips, so Max only laughs because it seems that things are going well and, moreover, she feels like partying.

On the tour with Ariana they had few things allowed, and definitely having a crazy night was not one of them. They did go to a couple of parties when they didn't have concerts in a couple of days, but the demands were so great that Max and Ariana even decided not to drink because anything could have gone wrong: they could have run images or videos of them, or of their team, drunk, or could have felt more harassed than usual by journalists and lost their tempers, or hundreds of other circumstances in which they could find themselves when they were drunk and did not have control of the situation, and that was not exactly what a world star like Ariana and a girl catapulted to fame like Max needed.

But here she feels freer. She has always felt at home in London, as if she did not have to worry about what she did because it was the usual behavior of others. She is totally clear on the things she should and should not do, but it is always good to know that she can be herself and that she is not judged for it.

She arrives at the bar of the pub a few minutes later, having stopped to greet several familiar faces and exchange banal conversations that in an hour she probably will not remember anymore. She finds the four of them drowning another shot glass and scowls playfully because she knows she's going to pay for that but hasn't even tasted it. The barista attends her quickly and she shrugs her shoulders with a smile, as if she doesn't know what she wants to order, so the boy raises a finger and tries to prepare a drink that Max does not know.

"You are quite known around here, aren't you?" Damiano jokes approaching her ear. Max nods slowly as she takes another sip of her drink —too sweet, she thinks.

"Born and raised in England, so yeah, a few people know me, especially since my tour in the States. Seems like my popularity levels have raised these last few months. That's probably how things will go for you four from now on: interviews, concerts, fans, signings, spending your days in the studio... This is just the best part of it."

"This is something we all are curious about: are beards real? I mean, can they really make you date people of their choice if you don't want to?"

Max huffs. "They can, and they love to do it. You sign a contract the first moment you step on here, so they've got you controlled how they want."

"So we can assume the rumors that linked you to that guy Shawn Mendes are fake, then? What? Don't look at me like that. I don't know who he is, but when we looked you up he appeared, too."

"Of course they were fake! I didn't even know there were rumours. He's got a girlfriend, and besides, we were just seen a few times because our teams thought it would be a good idea to collaborate."

"You're saying you're single, then."

Max lets out a laugh, and doesn't know if it's because Damiano is too charismatic, because she begins to feel the alcohol travel through her veins, or a mixture of the two. "Quite charming you are, Damiano. I'm totally free and I intend it stays that way. Who knows when I'll be gone again with another tour, and having a stable relationship with all the work and the traveling seems quite impossible. You'll find out soon enough. Now quit distracting me and let's dance."

The five of them head out onto the dance floor when a well-known song starts to play, so they move in style to the music and, laughing, drink some more. Soon some member of the group disappeares into the crowd to reappear with a drink in their hand, and each time this happens those who are left dancing welcome them with cheers, as if appearing with another gin were a victory for the group. This causes them to have to go to the bathroom frequently, saying hello to the occasional person who congratulates them on having won the festival —they act naturally but when they get out of sight they open their mouths as if people thought they were superstars— and there is conversations that are far from Max.

"This wasn't what I expected," Ethan acknowledges once they reach the bathroom. He speaks Italian with Damiano because he doesn't want people to understand what they are saying and misinterpret it. "Yes, I had heard of Tessa Maxwell, but I didn't think she was going to be so...humble, maybe? I thought her ego would go through the roof, that she would treat us like we were just rookies, but she's being more pleasant than I expected. I didn't think someone so famous could pretend we were just her friends."

"The truth is that yes, anyone would have been surprised by our party clothes," laughs Damiano. "She even took you to a fucking museum, dude."

"Wait here, I'll be back," Max announces across the pub, parting with the company of Thomas and Victoria, who have also drunk alcohol and are just laughing.

The girl pushes her way through the crowd as best she can, apologizing when she thinks she has almost thrown someone's drink, and reaches the DJ booth, who recognizes her and lets her pass. She yells closely at him which song she wants to be played, although she knows that no one will be able to hear it from below, and the boy raises his thumb and indicates that he will play it when the current one stops playing.

However the song ends soon, and the first chords of the song surprise Ethan and Damiano in the bathroom, and Victoria and Thomas drowning out their third shot of the night. Max reaches the group at almost the same speed as the other two Italians, who point to the ceiling as if surprised by what was playing. Damiano's voice echoed through the room to the beat of Ethan's drums, Beggin'.

"You did that?" Victoria asks, dumbfounded. She never imagined that a song they were playing would play in a London pub, full of celebrities and other influential people.

Max nods fervently and shows them her phone. "Here, I looked it up before! People are going to love it, you sound amazing. And besides I can sing along!"

"This is so fun!" Victoria yells again, and although she is a little shorter than Max, she clasps her in her arms, wrapping them around her waist, and tries to lift her up, and Max, surprised, lets herself be lifted up while taking care of her drink. "I can't believe people are singing along to something we play."

The song doesn't finish without the Italians moving to the rhythm of their own voice and instruments. Damiano shouts the lyrics as if his life depended on it, and Thomas and Victoria move from side to side, imitating playing their respective instruments, while Ethan seems a bit more behind and stays next to Max, who takes out her phone and starts recording the movements of her new friends. She holds her glass with her teeth, and although she knows she shouldn't, she prefers that to leaving it anywhere and for anyone to come by and take it. She laughs, and because of the spasms in her chest and the alcohol, the phone shakes, so the video she uploads to Instagram looks choppy but at least she uploads it without sound —she hates how her laugh sounds when she's laughing so hard.

She doesn't know what time of night, because time and songs go by too fast to know exactly, but she is outside the pub with a cigarette between her fingers. There is no one left around the pub, because she guesses that it will be around three in the morning, and the people who did not enter at the beginning of the party will be tired of waiting in vain. So Max doesn't hold back and takes a long drag, because although she doesn't usually smoke, she tries to hold back when there are paparazzi in front of her to avoid rumours or false stories about her life.

Louis is beside her, silent, because he is probably too hoarse to speak fluently, and with his back against the wall, trying to find some point of support so that the dizziness is not so bad. Max laughs suddenly, and coughs because the smoke is inhaling the wrong way, and the scene is too funny —or she's had too many special drinks from that barista— because Louis has his eyes closed and his mouth is ajar as if he were dying of thirst in the desert.

"Shit. Stop laughing at me."

Max stifles another smile and raises her arms in surrender. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she apologizes and discards the cigarette. "How's Freddie? It's been a long time since I saw him."

"Same time since I did," Louis confesses, and Max's heart skips at his words.

"Everything alright?"

Louis sighs, and Max doesn't know if it's to avoid drunkenness or because the answer is no. "It's just I think I'm not in the best state to watch after him, and apparently Briana thinks the same. Things are not going well since, you know."

The girl shakes her head and imitates the position of Louis, who continues to lean against the wall. They look at each other. "That's shit. I know we don't see each other that much, but I'm here to try to help you as much as you've helped me. I just hope you know that. You can talk to me whenever you want to."

Louis nods but doesn't look at her. "I've been drinking a lot lately. At first it's just a few drinks, something to have fun one night out, but then you take them when you're at home just to take your mind off certain things, or you have it as soon as you wake up, and that's when you know you have a problem."

"Oh, Louis... I appreciate you telling me. It's a very big step admitting having a problem, and I'm sure you can overcome it, you're so strong. But why would you throw this party?"

"Because it feels like my scenario for everyone. It's always Louis, bad things happening to him, so I have to keep showing the public and the media that I'm doing fine. It's a spiral that has been going on in my life: party, drink, forget, apparent happiness, and restart. But I want to put an end to it. I don't want this shit to stop me from seeing my own son."

Max's intoxication wears off quickly, as the lucid part of her body feels that these are too important topics to forget the next day. She blinks repeatedly with the intention of clearing her head and getting rid of the dizziness that holds her against the wall, and momentarily seems to be doing it. "We should close this pub and go have a good sleep. Tomorrow will be a new day and you can tell me all about it."

"Yeah, you're right."

Louis is interrupted by the back door opening and closing suddenly, and Max turns and makes out a blonde hair before the girl bumps into her, apparently on purpose, because she embraces her again as before that night. "Max!" Victoria exclaims as if she had been looking for her. "The boys are already in the car."

Louis and Max exchange a look, and smile a little when they see the state of the girl, who continues to cling to the Englishwoman. "Give me a call tomorrow. I mean it," Max reminds Louis, who nods and says goodbye to them.

"I should go inside and tell everyone to go home. Get home safely, yeah?"

"Why did you come look for me all alone? You could've gotten lost out there," Victoria just shrugs, regaining consciousness a bit with the cold air crashing against her cheeks and sensing the seriousness in Max's words to Louis. However, she doesn't say anything, because she has known the girl since that morning and doesn't want to meddle in her affairs, although a part of her wants to ask irretrievably because the Englishwoman has a slightly frowned brow and a worried look. Victoria is definitely silent. "Come on, let's get home. Or hotel, at least. Did you have fun?"

"Oh, yeah!" Victoria assures her. "They even played another song of ours, but I think you were outside. Ethan filmed a video for you of us, I think. We can send it to you tomorrow."

The journey to the hotel is not too tiring for two reasons: the Italians are extremely tired, so they sit in their seats without making any more noise than some slight snoring from Damiano, and because Max is sober enough to close her eyes in the car and not make her feel like she wants to throw up. She wakes up the band as soon as they arrive at the door of the hotel, and is grateful that there are no fans so loyal as to wait for their arrival at that time of night. She pats everyone on the leg and arms until they wake up, and as Thomas and Ethan regain some consciousness, Damiano and Victoria are still reluctant to get up from their comfortable seats, so the three more sober make a pact in silence: the two boys take care of Damiano, and the young singer takes care of Victoria.

"Come on, Victoria."

"But I'm so tired."

"That's what a bed is for! Be a good girl, yeah?"

Victoria's stomach turns just at those words. She doesn't know what's wrong with her body, but Max's accent and her unintentionally mischievous words make the heat rise to her cheeks and she regains some clarity, this time walking on her own two feet. When she looks at Max, she only smiles, because it seems that her words have had an effect —although perhaps not the one she intended— and then she shakes her head a little to put those thoughts out of her mind.

They soon arrive at her room, and she is grateful that it is not too close to her own, because she hears Damiano's grunting from across the hall and knows that she needs complete silence to sleep. She uncoils her arm from around Victoria's waist, who flops onto the bed as if she has no strength for anything else.

"Only five more minutes, I promise. Then you can sleep as many hours as you want."

Victoria closes her eyes but keeps her back against the head of the bed, which is enough for Max. She takes off her leather jacket and hangs it on the hanger, because she thinks it is probably one of the Italian's favorite garments. Max grabs washcloths, soap and water, knowing that if she goes to her room to get the lotion Victoria will fall asleep and not remove her makeup, and Max knows how important it is to take care of one's skin before going to sleep. So she gently wipes the washcloth over her eyelids and under her eyes, over her lips and across the rest of her face, in case she has decided to apply foundation as well. "Done?" Victoria murmurs as exhaustion wins the battle.

"Don't fall asleep just yet. I have to go to my room and bring you something."

Max disappears and Victoria doesn't have time to argue, because she is too tired to tell her that it's not necessary. Even so, she is curious what Max wants to bring, because she knows that she has left nothing in the pub, much less in the singer's room, so she tries to stay with her eyes open.

But when the Englishwoman enters the room, the lights are off and only the light from the outside remains to illuminate the room. She makes out the small figure of Victoria lying on the bed, and she can only sigh. She walks slowly across the room because she doesn't know what obstacles she's going to find on her way, and she leaves the glass of water and an aspirin on the nightstand, knowing that the Italian will probably need them the next morning.

"Good night, Victoria."