To say that Victoria is furious is probably an understatement, and it shows in their increasingly frequent rehearsal sessions. Thomas says nothing, fearful that he might slip up at some point, making some off-hand comment that might affect his friend. Damiano, on the other hand, does bring up the subject on occasion, and simply frowns when Victoria gives him a rude, ironic response or a snort. Ethan is the only one who seems to detect that the girl's discomfort is not caused by rehearsals, or the summer heat, or the fact that they are in a country far from home.

No, her woes stem from Theresa Maxwell, who has recently started making the covers of tabloids, and not for the reasons Victoria might wish. Since that night in the pub in London, things haven't been the same. Max barely spends any time with them, being away from home most of the time, and the time she does spend at home usually coincides with Maneskin's time in the studio, practising for their European tour and creating new songs.

And, according to the paparazzi, Max seems to have taken a liking to Connor, a guy who is painted as a simple, smiling and quite polite guy with the girl —to prove it, they attach evidence of the boy holding the door while Max walks into a restaurant, or carrying a rucksack on his back and her bag in his hand, and Victoria has to suppress the instinct she has to rip out that page and burn it in a bonfire— whom she met outside the show business and who seems to have made a dent in her life, as they spend more time together than either of them would have thought.

So Victoria, a normally calm and composed girl, tries to take it easy, but it's not the first time she's broken a string on her bass guitar that week. She plays Beggin' with such intensity that it sounds like she's dedicating it to someone, and that's not a good sign. She tries to check social media as little as possible, communicating with fans very occasionally, but when she does, she tries to avoid those topics. And even if she does come across a picture of Max and Connor, she keeps telling herself that she should be happy with it, because clearly the girl is happy with someone who isn't her, and that shouldn't piss her off the way it does.

"Hey, seriously, are you okay?" Damiano asks for the third time that day. The first time is easily ignored by Victoria, who takes a swig from her water bottle and gives a thumbs-up in agreement; the second time Damiano is met head-on with a tired grimace from Victoria and accepts that he should stop asking. But the third time comes as a result of the Italian's bad entrance into the song, and that never happens. "You've been... weird lately."

"I'm perfectly fine," Victoria simply replies. The three boys give each other a knowing look, as if they know Victoria is lying. "Shall we start again? I won't be wrong again."

"Vic, stop," Thomas advises her. He sets the guitar down, almost as a signal for the rest to do the same with their instruments, and they slowly approach her. "We don't want to push you, we just want to remind you that we're here for whatever it takes, through thick and thin, and we can tell you're not going through your best times."

Victoria's eyes suddenly sting, because she knows that with the lambent look on Thomas's face she won't be able to hold on for long with that lie. She is touched and pleased to know that those three boys are unconditionally by her side, but she feels that her secret is too big to share. She doesn't want to be judged, she doesn't want them to think she's been a stupid girl to have her eye on Max, a well-known star of the moment, older than them, and who could have anyone she wanted. And, as much as she doesn't want that, that's not Victoria.

"I said I'm fine," Victoria tries to say as firmly as she can, but a tremor betrays her. She's normally very strong and keeps her composure, but she knows she won't be able to hold it together for long —she lives at Max's house, after all— if she can't get her mind off her.

"I think you should tell them," Ethan interjects for the first time, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. Victoria's head turns quickly to the boy, who shrugs slightly: the Italian hasn't told him anything at any point, but she knows that the boy is too intuitive and observant to miss any detail —let alone one that's so obvious. Ethan sees Victoria start to relent, and before either of the other two boys can speak, he adds, "She hasn't told me anything, but I can guess what it's about."

Victoria turns her gaze back to meet the doubting Thomas and Damiano, who are waiting for an answer for obvious reasons but don't seem angry or disappointed that Ethan knows something they don't. After all, they trust his word.

"I don't even know where to start," Victoria confesses in a fit of honesty. "You guys know that since Fran I haven't... Well, since then I haven't been with anyone. I haven't felt with anyone the connection I felt with her, so this all feels like a first for me."

Damiano smiles sideways, as if he hadn't expected that, and sticks out his tongue a little. "Does our little Vic have a suitor? Where did you meet them?"

"Who does she spend her days with, you idiot?" Ethan mutters, and while he doesn't intend for it to come out as an insult, he does intend for Damiano to realise who it might be.

"Is it one of us?" Thomas asks with a grimace on his face, more disgusted than relieved. He can't stand the idea that within the group there are couples like that, they know each other as siblings. Any relationship between the four of them would be a bad idea, in his opinion.

"It's Max, you idiots," Victoria shouts to make herself heard above the comments of her companions trying to guess who it is. Silence falls in the small room they call a studio, smirks turn to expressionless lips and eyes widen slightly at the confession. Ethan clears his throat a little to ease the tension in the air, and Victoria begins to fidget. They say nothing. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"Uh...," Damiano mutters. "I guess we are just surprised, that's all. We knew you spend a lot of time together and that you understand each other very well, but we didn't know it went this far. Does she know?" The boy finishes, and from the tone of voice, Victoria almost guesses the meaning behind his words: but does Max like girls?

Victoria shakes her head in frustration and sits down on one of the poufs in the studio. The others do the same, forming a circle and waiting for the girl to feel better. She starts to tell them everything, from the beginning, from the moment they found out they were going to be accompanied on their European tour by one of the youngest up-and-comers in music at the moment, the scepticism Victoria felt when she found out, because she assumed she would be a stuffy girl who would barely say a word to them. She continues with how everything changed the moment the five of them met in person, discovering that Max was the opposite of what they had thought: always with a smile on her lips and a kind word for any of them. The times they had connected without the boys present, the times they had encouraged each other, the late-night conversations without anyone being able to disturb them, the confessions they had made to each other —but never including her feelings— and all three boys can hear from Victoria's voice that she's having a hard time.

"I guess this all started when we met Connor, didn't it?" Thomas wants to know, and Victoria nods. "You like her so much that you're getting all bent out of shape like this? We haven't seen you like this even with Francesca," Victoria nods again, and the question she's dreading the most comes, "Are you in love with her?"

The truth is that Victoria doesn't know. Yes, the question may have crossed her own mind more than once, but she never knows what to answer herself. She thinks she has fallen in love, at least once in her life, but she knows that the feelings are different with everyone. With Francesca it was all adrenaline: first love, living in a big city and hiding from anyone who might have an opinion. She was younger, and maybe those were feelings she thought she needed, but Victoria has grown up and things have changed. With Max things are different, and she doesn't know if that's for better or worse, but with the Englishwoman there's quiet, there are long conversations, there are walks at night when Victoria can't sleep because of anxiety, there are midnight teas to calm her nerves before an interview, a public rehearsal or a concert.

"I don't know," she limits herself to answering, because if there's one thing she's sure of, it's that she's not sure. "I don't know if I'm in love, I guess there comes a moment when you realise, and as much as I feel it, I don't think that moment has arrived. Yet," Victoria murmurs the last part.

"What do you think you need right now?" asks Ethan, who wants to be a part of the solution to his friend's problems. "Would you be better off confessing everything you feel to her, knowing that it may or may not work out, or do you think it's better to just shut up and forget about it?"

That's something Victoria doesn't know for sure either. It is clear that she would love to be able to tell her everything that Max makes her feel, and that the answer would be that the Englishwoman feels the same and that they can be together without fear of anything; but the realistic part of Victoria is too afraid that it will not be reciprocated and, with it, lose the great friendship that unites them. Sometimes the Italian feels a burst of courage, goes up to her and intends to tell her, because it is too big a feeling to carry inside without saying anything, but she sees her and regrets it, and changes the subject of conversation because she knows that the fear of screwing everything up ends up being greater.

"Do you need us to do something for you?" Damiano comments. "You know, test the waters."

"No, you don't have to do anything, but thank you," Victoria thanks with a small —tiny— smile. She appreciates that her friends have been there for her, but to that extent they can do. They can't suddenly make Max fall in love with her like magic. "She seems happy with Connor, and I'd hate to get in the middle and have things tense later. I have no choice but to leave it alone."

She picks up the bass again, but this time it's not to resume her rehearsal, but to put it away in the case for good. The rest of the guys take the hint, and do the same with the rest of the material lying around. That's enough for today, they all think.

However, the three of them are thinking about Victoria's recent confession on the drive home. There is soft music playing in the van, and it distracts Victoria long enough for her to sing along and not notice the pensive, distracted faces of her friends. The Italians hate to think that their friend is upset about something they can't instantly fix, but they know that in matters of love, there's little anyone else can do. Still, they figure the least they can do is find out if Max is really okay with Connor or if these are exaggerations from the mind of a young girl —almost— in love.

When they arrive at the house, Max is still not there. It's close to seven in the evening, the time they usually have dinner together —when all five of them are at home— but there's no sign of the Englishwoman. The lights are off, the windows are closed and the garden is empty. They all decide to wait for her for dinner, despite everything that has happened, and Thomas suggests that they have a beer in the garden while they wait for her to arrive.

At first things are a little tense, but not because the boys object to Victoria's feelings, but because they all sense that it won't go too well. They think they know Max well enough to know when she's comfortable with someone, and the fact that she hasn't left Connor's side practically since the day she met him is a strong sign. Victoria doesn't want to think about that too much, so she takes a big sip of her beer without raising too much suspicion —she knows the guys will regret pulling beer if she screws up and gets drunk to drown her sorrows.

"In a couple of weeks we'll be back in Italy," Damiano opens the conversation again, sipping his bottle. "It seems like only yesterday we left Rome not knowing everything that would be waiting for us after Eurovision."

Victoria smiles a genuine little smile for the first time today. It has certainly been a long journey and a lot of hard work, but they are on the verge of achieving their dream and she wouldn't change it for the world. "I still remember when we used to rehearse in Thomas' garage because we couldn't play anywhere else," Ethan adds nostalgically.

Thomas laughs pleasantly. "Fuck, those were the days. Now we get a whole studio to ourselves. I wouldn't trade any of this for anything in the world. We're going back to Italy, yes, but then we've got more gigs coming up. It's unbelievable, all this."

They continue chatting and talking more animatedly. They even come up with lyrics for a new song, and Damiano writes them down in his notebook but he knows that none of them will be definitive. Victoria forgets for a while that she had been down hours before, but not for too long, because it's around eight in the evening when they hear the front door open, footsteps stomping more loudly than usual on the floor, keys clattering on the table, and they look at each other, wondering if it's all a coincidence or if Max really seems to be in a bad mood.

The girl looks out into the garden when she sees the sliding window open, knowing that the four of them are outside because their keys are also on the table. She gives them a strained smile, her lips drawing a thin line that doesn't go unnoticed by any of the four. Victoria's heart skips a beat when she sees her, as it always does, and she is reminded once again that she is crushing hard on her and will never be able to do anything about it.

"I'm sorry I'm back so late. I was in a meeting and the time flew by, I didn't even notice. Have you had dinner? You can order some pizzas if you want," Max speaks quickly, as if she doesn't want to give them time to ask her questions. "Today hasn't been my day at all and I'm pretty tired. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Have a good time," she adds, looking down at the beers in their hands and giving them one last small smile.

And that's it. And she disappears, drawing the curtain again, the others listening to her footsteps on the stairs and the sound of her bedroom door closing, without giving any further explanation and without letting any of them ask about her day. And it seems strange to all four of them, but especially to Victoria, because even though their relationship has been affected by Connor's presence, Max always seems to be honest with her about her state of mind and the problems she feels she's having.

"It must have been a bad day," Thomas hisses. "No one would turn down pizza and beer, let alone on a Friday night."

The rest of the evening goes like this, ordering two pizzas for the four of them and accompanying them with another beer and soft drinks. They're not drunk, and certainly the food makes any kind of cloud in their heads dissipate, so they go to bed not long after, each in their own room —courtesy of Max, who remains quiet— their minds wandering and spinning over everything that happened today, but gradually sinking into a deep sleep.

All except Victoria.

Her head is unable to stop to think clearly for a moment, to switch off even for that one night, and Victoria isn't clear whether it's because of what she's talked about with the boys or because of Max's obvious uncomfortable mood. Sometimes she wants to stop beating herself up, wants to stop feeling so vulnerable to Max's feelings, because it affects her too much when the Englishwoman is sad, when she's angry or when she's moody, and Victoria is a little tired of feeling so weak when she'd like to stay stronger. But she can't help it: seeing Max like this is like seeing a sad little dog on the side of a road, impossible to leave to its own.

So she gets up from her bed, ready to pour herself a glass of cold water and clear her mind. She breathes a sigh of relief when she detects no noise coming from the bedrooms other than Thomas's snoring, so she ventures that everyone will sleep peacefully except her. The downstairs also remains empty, and she can see the moonlight coming through the glass of the window overlooking the garden, so she goes over to close the curtain because she thinks one of the boys must have forgotten to keep it just the way Max likes it.

When she goes up to her room she knows full well that she's not tired and that she's going to have a hell of a time getting to sleep, but if anything wakes her up even more it's the creak of Max's door slowly opening, and Victoria freezes in place, knowing that she has to walk past it to get into her room. She intends to sneak past more quickly and quietly, but the Englishwoman is quicker than the Italian thinks, so Max spots Victoria on the other side of the door and stares at her for a few moments.

"I swear I wasn't here spying," is the only thing that comes out of her lips, and although it's not very coherent, it makes Max smile a little. Still, Victoria swallows as she feels, once again, vulnerable: who would say such a stupid thing?, she berates herself.

"I believe you. I'm sorry if I scared you, I just wanted to...," and so Max stops talking. She seems to lose track of time for a moment, and Victoria worries.

"Are you okay?"

The Englishwoman nods, slowly regaining consciousness. "Yeah, I just haven't had much dinner. You eat too much to trust you to leave me leftovers, you know?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know that—"

Max laughs, "Just kidding, Victoria. You can eat as much as you like," the Englishwoman stares at her for a moment, and Victoria feels that if she doesn't stop, she won't be able to resist her charms. Finally Max chooses to smile briefly at her again, and asks, "How was your day? Did you rehearse a lot? I know you've got a few gigs coming up."

The blonde remembers what the reason was for interrupting her rehearsal early, and shudders. However, she lies and nods, feeling somewhat guilty for not telling her the truth, but also feeling incapable of doing so. "What about yours?" Victoria instantly regrets asking, remembering Max's mood when she has arrived and seeing her face fall in a matter of seconds. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have butted in. It's just that we've seen you upset and..."

"There's no need to apologise, Victoria, especially not if it's not your fault," Max coaxes her with soft words and a loving gesture, but Victoria bites her tongue to keep from apologising again. She doesn't know what else to say, but she wants to keep talking to her, and the following chills her blood: "Do you want to come in? I could use some company. Especially yours."

It takes Victoria only a few seconds to swallow and nod. Especially yours. What the hell does that mean? Her heart skips a beat at the slim possibility that it means what she wants it to mean, but it flips when she comes back to reality and knows that's not possible, that Max is with someone else now and doesn't see her in the same way. Anyway, Victoria knows that what the brunette needs right now is a friend, so she tries not to let her platonic feelings get in the way of listening to her.

The Italians have been living at Max's house for a couple of weeks, but none of them have entered the Englishwoman's room, and Victoria is in for a surprise when they do. It's not decorated in the way she would expect, but rather in a childish way: there are posters of children's Disney movies on the walls, photos of her as a child with her parents in some frames and on the desk, and a television hanging on the wall with a sticker of an emoji on one side. Victoria lets out a dreamy smile.

"What are you laughing at?" Max snaps at her with a wrinkled nose but a small smile.

"I'm not laughing. I just didn't expect this at all. I was expecting a room with artificial seedlings, positivity quotes in pictures and dozens of books that make you look cultured. But I must admit that I like this better."

Max shrugs. "Reminds me more of home," the brunette lies back on her own bed, staring at the ceiling as if in thought, then looks back at Victoria. With a nod she motions for her to lie down next to her, and though Victoria shivers at the mere thought of sharing a bed with her, she doesn't hesitate to oblige. Max continues to stare at the ceiling, and when Victoria looks up, she sees a silhouette of a dog drawn on the ceiling. She senses that it's something special to Max, so she averts her gaze, lies down on her side, and resolves not to take her eyes off her all night. "Tell me about your life in Rome. It'll distract me."

Victoria hesitates a little; she wasn't expecting that question and doesn't know exactly where to start. "Well, I've lived in Rome all my life. I don't know anything other than Italy, so it's a bit hard for me to get out of there and adapt to anything outside, but with the boys it's been a lot easier. I met Thomas in high school. He's a year younger than me, but we lived nearby and we saw each other around quite a lot, so we soon became friends. At the time, we both played bass and guitar, so we had that thing that brought us together: the dream of wanting to make music, to play our own songs. Thomas introduced me to Ethan a few months later. We didn't go to the same high school, but Thomas had been looking for someone to play drums, and there was no one better than Ethan. We were slowly getting more and more excited, our families were supporting us in this even though we were just kids, so we started looking for a singer. We didn't care if it was a boy or a girl, but we wanted someone who could sing more rock, heavy, rather than pop."

"Is that how you met Damiano?"

Victoria stifles a giggle. "You won't believe it when I tell you that Damiano was very different to how he is now. He was blonder, wore his hair always combed to one side, with shirts, well pressed trousers and dress shoes. He was a posh kid who sang pop," Max opens her mouth wide, because the image she has of Damiano now with make-up, tattoos all over his body and dark clothes and so little regulation doesn't sound at all like the supposed Damiano that Victoria mentions. "But he sang well, you know Damiano, with that voice he has. It took us longer to decide on him, because we weren't sure if he would fit in with our tastes, but in the end he was a great fit because deep down he wanted the same thing we wanted. We formed Maneskin, which means 'moonlight' in Danish. I suggested the name myself, as my mother was Danish and I wanted to honour her in some way. She passed away a few years ago," the Italian adds to Max's doubtful gaze when she referred to her mother as in the past.

"I'm very sorry, Vic. My father died too, so I understand what you've been through," now it's Victoria's turn to squeeze Max's hand in support. "Actually, I'm named after him. I was born in Manchester, where my parents have always lived. They didn't want to know my sex until the day I was born, so they made a pact: if I was a girl, which is what my mother wanted, she would choose the name. On the other hand, my father preferred a boy, so if I was a boy, he would choose the name. In the end my mother won and named me Theresa, although I've never really been called that. People there know me more as Tessa, because, honestly, if I'm called Theresa when I'm five I think I've done something wrong," Max laughs a little to play it down, and Victoria smiles, amused. "My father became very ill when I was twelve. It was a very hard process, I was still just a little girl and it was very hard to think that one day my father wouldn't be there anymore, but the day came. My mother and I had each other, and although it was in horrible circumstances, we became even closer. She was the one who pushed me to follow my dreams, to apply for The X Factor when I was more of an adult, and I owe her everything. As I know my father would have wanted to see me come to all this, my stage name is Tessa Maxwell, which is ultimately his surname, but the people closest to me know me as Max. So a little piece of him will always be with me".

Victoria sighed. "That's beautiful, Max. I'm sure he's proud of you. You're amazing," the girl sighs again, and doesn't realise she's too close to her until the moment she feels her breath collide on her lips. Something inside her, however, tells her to stop. Max is obviously sensitive, going through a sad moment, and Victoria would feel terrible if she took advantage of this moment of weakness. So, as much as she wants to kiss her and comfort her in her arms, she speaks again, "Do you want to talk about what happened this afternoon?"

Max clicks her tongue. "Sometimes Simon can be a real dick," she says, whispering. "But it happens, after all he wants to get money and he's doing it through us. It'll pass, really."

"Did he say something to you? You seemed pretty upset."

The Englishwoman raises her head, slightly uncomfortable. Victoria is about to tell her that she's sorry, that she doesn't have to tell her if she doesn't want to, but she remembers that Max has told her not to apologise for everything, and, besides, the brunette seems willing to talk. "He said I was behaving selfishly, rudely and without a care in the world."

Victoria's blood burns when she hears the thread of the girl's voice, because she knows Max is anything but, and she hates to think that Simon might have hurt her just to get things in his favour. She squeezes her hand again, as if that will magically fix everything, and the truth is, even if Victoria is oblivious to it, Max feels like things are going a little better with the blonde next to her in her bed. "That's what's been bothering you, isn't it? That idiot," Max shakes her head a few seconds later. Sadly she's used to big names in the industry picking on artists, so that's not it. "Can you tell me what hurt you?"

Max shakes her head again. Victoria feels a little bad, because she thinks the Englishwoman doesn't trust her enough, but she doesn't know the reasons why Max doesn't want to come clean about what happened. "I wish I could, Vic," is the last thing the girl mutters before she falls asleep just inches away from Victoria.