"How was rehearsal?" Ana asks when she sees through the bedroom mirror Max come in, visibly tired and breathing a bit raggedly. Max hears the sarcastic tone in her friend's voice, so when she looks up to answer her through the mirror —with a somewhat insulting gesture— Ana can only let out a sound of satisfaction.

"Got it," is all the young Brit says before taking a huge swig from her water bottle. Ana waits expectantly for more answers as the stylist politely asks her to close her eyes. "We had to time the duet performance so that I had time to go backstage, take off my dress, change my outfit for the next performance and practice enough for the leather to let me move around the stage. All in record time, but we finally did it," Max plops down in one of the armchairs, huffing as her body tries to adjust her posture to the strange design of the furniture, and it's only then that she stares at her friend for a long period of time. "You look nice. Green suits you."

Ana smiles at her in the form of a thank you for the compliment through the mirror, and then turns around again with her stylist's permission. "Nice enough for you to tell me who you're performing with?"

"No," Max replies quickly, ready to silence any of the following questions from her friend, who wrinkles her nose a little at the blunt response. Max tries to keep herself occupied as her head travels back a couple of hours to when she entered the EMA's stage, ready to rehearse with her partner but, at the same time, fearful of finding a certain Italian group also rehearsing, which, fortunately, hasn't happened. "It's a surprise," is all she adds afterwards to continue the conversation.

"Come on. I won't tell anybody."

"I know that, but haven't you thought that maybe I want to surprise you, too?"

Ana opens her eyes, many artists running through her head, but then squints them in suspicion. "Just give me a clue. Don't I at least deserve that?"

When the youngest opens her mouth to answer —yes, at least Ana does deserve that; she's been the only one with her, despite everything— Sylvia pokes her head inside the room and clicks her tongue when she finds Max still in her dressing gown and unfinished make-up. "Show's starting in an hour and a half and you still look like this? Hair and dress now!"

Max gives her a nod to indicate she's taking it into account, and shrugs in front of Ana. "Guess that'll have to wait. I'll see you in a bit. You can wander off around here, maybe you'll see someone you like and that casually sings with me tonight," Max winks at her in complicity and disappears before Ana can ask for another hint or throw a random name in the air.

Under Ethan's watchful eye, Victoria fiddles with the rings on her hand. It's a gesture she adopted a long time ago, perhaps even before they met, but one that the boy knows perfectly well: Victoria is nervous, and the rattling of her rings only corroborates it. Damiano and Thomas are too busy staring out of the van window, admiring the landscape of an illuminated but nocturnal Hungary, a night that is very special for them for different reasons, but especially for Victoria.

Ever since she became aware that Max would also be attending this event, all her thoughts about the EMA's have been about her. Will she be changed a lot? What kind of clothes will she wear? Will she sing something new —the song he taught her months ago that was dedicated to her?— Will she go with someone special? A slight pain strikes the girl's heart every time that thought crosses her mind, and although she desperately looks for someone to blame for it, the truth is that the blame for Max being able to go that night accompanied in someone else's arms is hers and hers alone. Victoria closes her eyes against the window pane and for the first time in almost fifteen minutes she stops fiddling with her rings.

Ethan continues to watch and doesn't know whether to call it a good thing or a bad thing. He knows that his friend is deeply nervous about coming face to face with Max again, not knowing what her reaction will be when she has Max in front of her again. Ethan fears that Victoria's heart will break into a thousand pieces again tonight if Max thinks of her presence as the existence of someone normal, not someone she shared so much with months ago. If Ethan is honest, even he is afraid that Max is not the same person he knew.

"It's going to be okay," is all Ethan whispers near her, trying not to let the other two boys notice their conversation. The music plays and flows inside the van, and the boy hopes it's enough to distract Thomas and Damiano's attention. The boy gently places a hand on Victoria's shoulder only to squeeze it and pull it away again, and Victoria gives him a fragile smile, because Ethan knows her so well that it doesn't even take words to explain everything that's on her mind.

It's not more than ten minutes after the blonde puts her head back against the window before they arrive at the venue. Even from inside the car, the four of them can see the red carpet almost at their feet, which reaches the entrance of the theatre. Velvety golden ropes surround a dedicated area for guests and the journalists and photographers, who already surround other celebrities, and luckily none of them are Max, as far as Ethan can tell, almost sighing to himself as he realises that Victoria won't have a live reaction.

Security personnel open the door for them, and the outburst of teenage and not-so-teenage screams is noticeable as Maneskin climbs out of the van. Smiles are instantly plastered on their lips as they hear their names being chanted and fans strain to shout louder than the person next to them to get someone to pay attention and take a photo with them or sign the notebook in their hand. Damiano, as always, is the one who takes the initiative. He high-fives the first fans he sees, and the smile on his lips widens when they lend him a phone to take a photo. Thomas, Ethan and Victoria lag a little behind, each for their own reasons, but they don't waste any time either: when Damiano returns to join them for more group photos, Ethan has already been asked three or four times to marry them, and it's Thomas who has to share it with the other two members because Ethan still feels embarrassed when they shout such things at him.

"Maneskin!" A reporter catches their attention, excited. "I was hoping to get you here soon! How are you feeling tonight? Excited? Nervous?"

"Maybe a little bit of everything," Damiano replies, laughing. "This is something huge for us, to be nominated to such well-known awards and discovering new countries and cities. It's an honour, so thanks for having us."

"Well, thank you for coming! What are you looking forward to the most tonight?"

This time it is Ethan who takes the initiative, because Thomas's English is not yet good enough to make an elaborate sentence. "I think I speak for all of us when I say enjoy the music and all of the artists' presence here."

"And the prizes," Thomas adds in something louder than a whisper, loud enough for the interviewer to hear and laugh, which makes the other members laugh.

"Talk about an honest answer. How about reuniting with old friends? Your last European tour you were accompanied by Theresa Maxwell and her team, who casually are attending tonight. Fans were surprised about the lack of interacting via social media after spending months together," the journalist looks at them all, expectantly, and from the audience's point of view, none of the four can deny that it's curious to say the least.

The microphone goes to Victoria, who has yet to open her mouth in the short interview, and the girl inwardly curses the coincidence. "Uh," she hesitates a little, looking for some support from the rest. 'You got this,' she thinks to herself. "It's just hard to maintain all the contact while the both of us are working in our own projects and we're on the other side of the world. We all have our personal lives on top of that, so yeah. We still wish her the best, though," Victoria smiles a little to hide the sadness in her heart, and judging by the looks of the others, she hasn't done as badly as expected.

"And we heard she's performing, so of course we're looking forward to that, too," Damiano interjects, drawing a charming smile on his lips, enough to make the interviewer change the subject and Victoria returns to her state of feigning a smile while pretending to listen attentively.

Suddenly, the camera flashes ring out loudly and the screams of fans behind the billboards grow louder, so much so that it catches the attention of the four Italians. The journalist smiles instantly when she sees the crowd shouting for a name, but that very name makes the four musicians freeze in place. Even some of the artists they are interviewing turn at that moment, greeting Max, who greets her closest friends with a kiss on the cheek and a friendly wave to those she knows less well. The brunette doesn't notice Maneskin in the background, almost at the entrance of the theatre, so she continues chatting with her companion, a brunette girl also wearing a beautiful dark green dress that matches Max's red dress strangely.

It is only when they are off camera that Victoria allows herself to let out the breath that was stuck in her throat. Her hair is a little longer, waved gracefully over her shoulders uncovered by the dress, her blue eyes are as piercing as the first day, and her smile still makes her heart race —and the slit in the dress that leaves her leg exposed doesn't help the colour rise to her cheeks.

Damiano puts a hand on her back. "Let's just go inside, yes?"

Max is still not used to the hundreds of voices mingling to shout for her when she appears. She shares a knowing glance with Ana when they open the car door for them to parade down the red carpet, and Ana smiles so much that the gesture spreads to the British woman's lips. She sees more and more normal stops on the street to recognise her, to ask for an autograph or a quick photograph —or a question about her well-being if she's lucky enough to meet a dedicated fan that day— but it's still new to her that people love her enough to crouch behind security fences just to see her at an event. And yes, it's strange, but it also feels great.

The flashbulbs surround her, the euphoria consumes her and she feels her heart swell with a mixture of a sense of pride and recognition at the same time. She would hate to agree with Simon once in a lifetime, but since her arrival in the United States things have changed, and her side as an artist couldn't be more grateful. Her lover side, however, has already killed Simon a thousand times over in her head. Still, the thought of seeing Victoria is pushed to the back of her mind when a huge smile breaks out on her lips as she greets fans.

"Tessa! Tessa! Let's take a selfie, please!" Max turns quickly to try to please all the people milling around behind the fence, and though it's hard to cater to everyone, she puts on her best smile. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, a little embarrassed, because she is still not used to being called by her real name so often, and not by her nickname.

The event organisers tell her it's time to move on, and Max complies nonetheless. She looks carefully at her feet for a moment to make sure the length of her dress is not such that she trips, and when she lifts the drapes to check it, she walks confidently towards the journalists and their blinding flashbulbs. However, she has practised for this. Ana's advice has been a great help, as she's been to dozens of red carpets and premieres: keep your chin slightly raised, your gaze as piercing as possible, and if possible maintain a professional pose —photoshop will do the rest.

"Excited to be here, Tessa?"

"Very!" Max smiles a little.

"Who's performance are you looking forward to?"

Max knows it's a somewhat tedious question, created mostly to deepen her now scant relationship with a certain Italian band. Nevertheless, Max answers professionally. "My friend Olivia's gonna sing, and she's gonna blow your minds. She's a pro. Also BTS. They always put on a good show and it'll be the first time I hear them live."

"We've seen you've come accompanied. Mind telling the public?" An interviewer brings the microphone to her lips and Max laughs.

"Yeah, Ana is a dear friend of mine. She's filming a new movie at the moment but I didn't want to live this experience alone, so she offered to come with me, and here we are! She's selfless like that."

"No other reason, then? You've been seen very cozy on your way here."

"God, no," Max scoffs but smiles. "Ana is a friend. More like a big sister to me. She's helped me many times and her coming with me is just another proof of our friendship. No gossip, lads."

The journalist laughs and looks at the camera. "You've heard her, folks. I just had to ask, I'm sorry. Back to music, you're not nominated tonight for any awards, but you've been invited to perform. Do you wish you were one of the nominees?"

Max hesitates, a little embarrassed. "Uh, not really. It's a huge opportunity for me to be nominated to such an event, and also an honour to perform. I just hope it's one of many events to come, and who knows? Maybe in the future a nomination comes. I'm not really worried about it, though. Enjoying the music and the night is perfect."

"Okay, last question and I promise to leave you be! Anyone watching you from home? Anyone you wanna say hello to?"

"Mum!" Max shouts instantly, and her voice accompanies the joy and excitement in her eyes, excited like those of a little girl. "I've made it! Also don't mind the outfits I might be wearing later. That's it, bye!" She grabs the skirt of her dress and walks as fast as she can into the theatre, leaving a string of laughter behind her. "Ana!" Max calls out to her friend as soon as she sees her, and grimaces when she sees her interrupting a conversation. "Sorry to interrupt. See, I told you you'd be entertained. How are you, Abel?" Max gives a short hug to the singer, who smiles politely.

"Long time no see, T. We were talking about Ana's performance in Knives Out. I was amazed by the plot twist."

"And I was telling him about how much I love his new song. Save your tears has been on repeat on my phone for weeks."

Abel raises an eyebrow in Max's direction. "You haven't told her yet?"

"Tell me what?"

"Er...," Max hesitates, feeling uncovered. Abel grimaces as he realises he's ruined the surprise. "Just that you look gorgeous tonight, and that we really need to make it to our seats if we want to be ready! Bye, Abel! Great to see you tonight. What the hell was that?" She mouths to him once she drags Ana far from there, who's still suspicious.

Ana tries again to press Max to answer her, but luckily for Max, as soon as the two brunettes are in their respective seats, the presenters of the gala greet the audience, start the gala, and the screams are so deafening that Ana has no choice but to wait.

The evening is not as painful and boring as Victoria had hoped, but still her mind is distracted, and not by the fact that winning an EMA that night is an almost real possibility. No. Part of her nerves is because her seats are oddly close to those of Max and her date —an actress Victoria knows by sight, but nothing more— and her eyes travel to those velvety red armchairs more times than she'd like to admit. She is silently grateful that the cameras always focus on other artists and leave her comings and goings alone. It's the fourth time in a short period of time that Victoria catches herself glancing at Max, who is somewhat in profile to her, but still the blonde is able to see her huge grin every time she sees a good performance or a funny joke from the hosts. She doesn't know whether to be jealous or grateful every time Max turns to her right —in Victoria's direction— every time the brunette girl in the green dress says something that makes her turn and laugh.

There's a brief pause in the performances so that the presenters can set the stage for the next performance, so Ethan takes the opportunity to lean in close to Victoria's ear and whisper a recommendation to try to stop drawing so much attention to herself. Victoria sighs and nods, knowing that at least this interaction won't arouse suspicion.

"I'm going to the bathroom. I need to freshen up a bit. I'll be right back," Victoria raises her voice a little near Ethan, because the fans in the seats closest to the stage are in an uproar. The boy nods and simply gives a thumbs-up, joining Damiano's conversation with a well-known artist behind them.

Victoria politely dodges the legs of the other artists in her row. She gives small, shy smiles to apologise, but also to say hello to those singers she knows and who —she thinks— know her too. She has to ask several organisers where the bathrooms are, so it takes her a little longer than expected to lock herself in one of them until she is sure no one is around. Anxiety digs into her chest like dozens of little daggers, preventing her from breathing normally. She has brought this on herself, she thinks with certainty. It's her fault she's in this situation, so she has no right to complain.

The water stops running at one of the taps in the bathroom, so she gets out as soon as she hears the front door close, leaving her alone. She rubs some cold water on the back of her neck and on her forehead, where her fringe covers what little make-up she wears. She takes a couple of deep breaths, convincing herself that it will pass, and that as soon as the night is over and they return to Rome, the trace Max has left in her heart will dissipate, despite three months of trying to do so.

However, the British woman's perfume returns to her nostrils as if it were a vivid memory, and it is not that she is imagining it, it is that through the mirror she sees how the door opens and closes, and through it the young singer enters. Victoria's heart beats so hard she thinks it's going to burst out of her throat, and Max looks so beautiful through the mirror that when the brunette raises her eyes to fix them on her, Victoria knows with certainty that she wants to disappear.

Victoria would like to know how Max keeps her composure, because it seems she's barely nervous judging by her tone of voice when she says, "Hey."

The Italian's voice gets stuck in her throat, so she doesn't answer until she knows for sure that she won't make any strange sounds. It's only when Max goes to wash her hands that she notices that she's not wearing the same dress with the thigh-high slit, but is now wearing leather trousers and a bodysuit tucked into them, matched with high black boots with a bit of a heel. Her black hair still cascades down her shoulders like a waterfall, but the way the fabric of her shirt squeezes her stomach and breasts makes Victoria's eyes travel unabashedly down her cleavage. She finds herself deeply embarrassed, so she looks away quickly.

"I like your suit," Max says suddenly, giving her a sidelong glance.

Victoria can't believe she's talking to her after all. She's so nervous, her heartbeat is pounding in her ears and she can't control her tongue. "You're hot," Victoria doesn't hesitate, but she does want to take a hit, so she closes her eyes and can't watch as Max widens her eyes in surprise and tries to hide a cocky smile. "I meant, uh, that outfit looks good on you."

"Thanks," Max murmurs back, a smile playing on her lips. Victoria is slightly less nervous, knowing that their interaction is awkward but not violent. "I gotta go. I'll see you guys out there."

Max doesn't wait for a response from the blonde, but only stretches her lips into a thin line as she wipes her hands on a piece of paper and tosses it into the wastebasket. Victoria gapes, leaning against the wall of the wall and out of breath. It's not how she imagined their first conversation upon seeing each other again, but it's much better than her more pessimistic —or realistic— version had thought, so her heart soars again and she rushes out of the bathroom to join her friends as quickly as possible.

"Ladies and gentlemen," begins the host, a famous comedian Victoria knows and with whom they will probably have to sit down sometime in the near future. "Next up we have a girl who's smashing it lately. Rumor has it she's releasing her first album in the next few months," the screams from the audience overshadow the voice of the presenter, who smiles, trying to quell the deafening sound. "I take it you're excited to hear her, yeah? Give it up for Tessa Maxwell with Hotter than Hell!"

Victoria slips out into the darkness and resumes her place in the audience just in time, still in disbelief at what she has just experienced. The stage is dark and there is a long silence, until artificial flames light up the theatre and the unmistakable figure of Max appears on stage, accompanied by four dancers behind her. The melody of the well-known song begins to play, making a brief introduction, and it is time for the young Brit to move closer to the dance floor, where the fans are waiting impatiently for the song to begin —and, why lie—, so is Victoria.

She calls me the devil

I make her wanna sin

Every time I knock, she can't help but let me in

Must be homesick for the real

The fans scream louder because they know those aren't the original lyrics. Max's blue eyes dart around the crowd, maybe looking for someone, maybe just giving the performance more power, but the way her hips move and her body glides across the stage with her team of dancers makes Victoria's mind keep repeating 'she said she'. The song goes on, Max even dances, making the blonde remember the times when it was her hands and not Max's that caressed the latter's body, and the Italian's legs cross in her seat in a suspicious way to avoid the effect of the change of pronouns in the song on her body heat.

"Did she say she?" Damiano murmurs next to her, dumbfounded. A playful smile dances on his lips because, as far as he knows, Max hasn't come out and that's proof of rebellion against her agency.

this bitch said sheeeeee omg we stan a wlw queen

ig she's an ally. talk valentina!!!

in many interviews she's said she's supportive of the lgbtq+ community rights. it was just a change of pronouns guys don't think about it.

you're probably right, she might've just wanted to make an statement in Hungary. a queen tho

screaming, crying and throwing up bc im not that she. honestly fuck me over @tessamaxwell

"And those are just some of the tweets!" Ana laughs as she swipes the screen of her smartphone. "The rumors probably won't stop coming and they'll last for a bit, I guess. It's up to you if you say something or not."

"Yeah, I don't need to explain anything, do I? If people can't realise I'm a bit gay, that's on them."

Ana laughs again, barely believing her friend's words, but as soon as they get up from their seats, the Cuban gives her a punch in the arm that makes Max have to scratch herself to avoid the pain. "Why didn't you tell me you were on The Weeknd's new song? Save your tears, really? I was talking to the man about it and I didn't know!"

"It was a surprise!" Max exclaims to defend herself. "The remix comes out tomorrow night, and besides, you loved it! No one knows about it, he just said he needed a feminine and lighter voice on the record so I obviously said yes. I have a fucking song with The Weeknd, can you believe it?"

The actress smiles broadly, wrapping her younger friend in a hug. The atmosphere in the theatre is warm, so the blush on Max's cheeks gradually lights up, also thanks to the effort she has made that night by singing twice. She's a little tired and needs a good hydration, but the afterparty awaits them.

Ana's smile turns into a thin line and she clears her throat softly to indicate something. It doesn't take Max long to get the hint, as the Maneskin members slowly approach her position, and Max automatically knows she's going to be standing alone in front of them —in front of Victoria, specifically— with no support at her side.

"I'll be waiting for you at the bar, okay? Remember you don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable doing," Ana earnestly reminds her and leaves a kiss in her hair that Max appreciates more than she lets on.

The first to approach is Damiano, with whom Max has always had a special relationship. They teased each other as if he were a big brother to her even though she's older than the Italian. Now things are tense: Max stands in front of the four of them, and doesn't know who to look at first, because it seems that these months have changed more things than Max thought.

"It's been a long time," Damiano smiles, letting out a breath of air.

"Yeah," smiles Max back. "You did great, by the way," adds Max, pointing to the stage. The youngsters' movements remain the same, and it's hard for the Brit to forget the passion the four of them bring to the stage. "I knew you'd win it," her lips stretch into a thin line as she gently touches the golden figure resting in Ethan's hands.

"We figured you would like Mammamia," Ethan smiles shyly.

Max returns the gesture in kind. She is aware that Damiano will want to ask her many questions and update her on many things. She realises that if things had been different, the five of them would be celebrating their songs and the Italian band's performance right now. She glances sidelong at Victoria, and finds her blue eyes already inspecting her, and much to her dismay it is the blonde who averts her gaze first. Max knows that if things had been different, she would have come with Victoria on her arm that night, not Ana.

"You can speak, you know. I don't bite," Max tempts Thomas, who looks at her doubtfully.

"You did bite sometimes," Thomas replies in a whisper, and that incites a real laugh from Max's throat.

"It's true, I'll give you that."

"You look..., different," The girl's broad smile gradually freezes on her lips until it becomes a thin line resembling an almost imperceptible smirk. "Your hair is dyed black, you look thinner."

"And now you dance," is the first time Victoria speaks, and Max turns her head quickly to find a more cheerful countenance than she expected, almost as if the blonde had spoken instinctively, without remembering everything that had transpired between them.

Against all odds, the boys let out small giggles. "I guess I do now. This different is good. I feel okay with it. My decision," Max adds as she points to her darkened hair.

"You're going back to Los Angeles after this?" Damiano offers a bridge out of the conversation.

"Yeah. I'm finishing some songs and I have to meet with my producers to choose which ones we include in the album. It'll be released soon, so," Max shrugs, smiling a bit.

"We'd love to hear it some time."

Max's gaze drifts back to Victoria, and this time it's she who looks away first. "We'll see. I... I have to go. Ana must be waiting for me. It's good to see you."

All five of them know that there is a hidden meaning behind those words, but none of them dares to decipher it out loud. Victoria has mixed feelings about that conversation: one part of her tells her that Max seems receptive to having a conversation, but the other part reminds her that she's brought that on herself, and that Max is being polite for the boys and nothing more. The gleam of hope she had harboured since the encounter in the bathroom dissipates in her eyes like a haze that should never have existed.

As a farewell, Damiano gives Max a short hug, which she returns in spite of everything. Damiano's words linger in the air as he walks away from her: "Sometimes different is good."