As soon as she opens her eyes, Victoria swears that she could very well be in heaven. Faint rays of light enter the room, illuminating the room. A clump of dark hair tickles her nose and cheeks, and she frowns but softens her face when she realises whose hair it is. She goes to brush a few strands out of her face, but stops instantly when she feels her arm draped over the girl's stomach, who is sleeping peacefully, as if she hadn't noticed the Italian's movements.

The butterflies in her stomach fly high and a shiver runs down her spine as she realises the situation. Next to her, Max stirs a little, as if the daylight is starting to bother her, and the Italian, not knowing what time it is but giving anything to spend a little more time between those sheets, stays still so as not to disturb her, repressing the intense desire to stroke her arm to get her to relax.

She doesn't get what she wants, as Max turns away, and Victoria thinks that although she's seen her in make-up and gorgeous outfits, it's when she's freshly risen that she's at her sweetest. Her tousled hair covers much of her face, but she wrinkles her nose and quirks a small smile and Victoria feels herself melting. She could definitely get used to those awakenings.

"How did you sleep?" Is the first thing Max asks her, who turns to face her but doesn't complain at all about the blonde's arm being around her waist. On the contrary, she seems happy about it.

"Better with your company," Victoria says in a burst of confidence. She doesn't know where it's come from, but she feels her stomach twitch as Max's smile widens.

The brunette hides a little more between the sheets, sinking her head into the pillow and yawning, listening to herself with difficulty. Victoria smiles almost inevitably, and thinks that if any of the boys saw her right now they'd say she was one hundred percent in love. But they just can't see how she sees Max, so sweet when she first woke up, so willing to do anything to make her feel comfortable, not to mention when she took that punch for defending her in the bar...

Victoria briefly grimaces, as she vividly remembers that's how Connor came into their lives, and even though the guy seems like a nice person, anyone who takes her away from Max is someone she should be careful around. She hates to think like this, so protective and jealous, but Victoria sees Max as someone so pure and so genuine that she'd hate to think that anyone would treat her badly and she wouldn't be there to stop it. She rolls her eyes imperceptibly as she feels like a hound dog.

But Max raises her head, her face a little clearer than before, and Victoria sees the pink in her cheeks. The Italian forgets about Connor and everything else to focus on the girl in front of her, who suddenly bites her lip, and this causes Victoria to lose her mind to think about things that, perhaps, she shouldn't be thinking about her friend.

"I want to do something," the Englishwoman mutters.

Victoria stares at her, but nods, because who is she to say no to Max? In turn, she nods, too, as if accepting Victoria's permission —or, rather, doubt. And what happens next paralyses the blonde, because she feels Max slowly move closer to her, causing the hand that was resting on her waist to now rest on her lower back, dangerously close to another area. Victoria's breath catches in her throat, unable to do anything but stand still because it's all so good that she thinks she's misreading Max's intentions.

I must have something on my face, Victoria thinks to herself. Yes, that must be it.

But no, it's not. Max takes her by the cheek, caressing it gently, looking at her with such intensity that Victoria feels like her heart is about to burst out of her chest. The Englishwoman leans in, kissing her where she has caressed her, and repeating the same ritual for the other cheek. Victoria finds it a bit of a wet kiss, too wet for a cheek kiss, but she doesn't complain, because Max is kissing her —even if it is on the cheek— and she already feels too lucky for that. Max definitely has to be hearing how hard her heart is pounding, but she doesn't say anything about it, just like Victoria, who remains silent, but her lips remain close to the corner of the Italian's, and suddenly she whispers, "I wanna be your slave."

Victoria opens her eyes wide, thinking that her ears have betrayed her and she has not heard clearly. But the message is repeated again, though not for long.

"Victoria? Victoria!" Victoria is confused. Who is calling her and why does she hear it so far away? No, it can't be.

The Italian woman's eyes open wide and she looks around. Chili is on the bed, licking her face effusively, as if she has missed her. Her arm is around no one, but occupies a void to her left on the bed, and her heart breaks as she realises it's all been a dream, and she stifles the urge to sink her head into the pillow to scream out her frustrations.

"Vic, come on!" The Englishwoman finally enters the room, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail and sporting a sporty outfit. Victoria grunts a little because it's not the scene she was dreaming of, but she's still glad to see her, apparently so recovered from the day before. "You're going to be late for your I wanna be your slave promo if you don't dress up."

The Italian instantly thinks 'shit'. She was so engrossed earlier that she hadn't even remembered that the music video comes out today, and that they have an interview on a well-known English radio station to publicise it and a concert on a major avenue. She gets up as quickly as she can, getting Chili off her back, who is met with some cuddling from Max and growls affectionately. Max throws her some towels to get her into the towel right away, and yells for her to come down soon, that he'll fix her something to eat.

A question is on the tip of the blonde's tongue. "What about the boys?"

"Oh, they've already left. They didn't mind doing the interview alone, they said you were unwell and that's it. They said to let you rest a little longer when I told them you slept with me," the brunette shrugs, oblivious to everything that's going through Victoria's mind as she says the last sentence. Stupid —but good— guys.

Victoria showers with cold water because she needs to. The memory of Max's lips so close to hers makes her rub her hair harder because she has to find some way to get rid of the heat she feels inside and the frustration that her mind has played tricks on her. However, part of her likes to imagine how they slept, and so she prefers to think that at least she did sleep cuddled up to her.

When she goes down to the kitchen, a smell of freshly brewed coffee and omelette is the first thing that hits her nose. She sniffs with pleasure, because she's hungry and because good coffee is another thing that will get her to focus. She hardly feels nervous for the interview and for the concert like other times, because her head has been too busy wandering about what would have happened next if it hadn't been a dream, if it had been reality...

Max is looking at something on her phone and laughs heartily when she sees something funny. Victoria looks at her a little, thinking she's talking to Connor, but her suspicions are allayed when the Englishwoman mutters 'fucking memes', and Victoria smiles a little smile because she's just messing around on Twitter. She assumes she'll be answering some fans and looking at memes, because she laughs some more.

"Eat, then I'll take you to the radio."

"Oh. To what do I owe such an honour?" Victoria replies playfully.

"Well, it's the price you pay for falling asleep: watching me drive in scoop. Besides, I'm going to Louis's later, so it's on my way, don't worry."

Victoria raises her eyebrows as she pops some omelette into her mouth. She's surprised at how easily she forgets that Louis has been highly linked to the girl as a possible partner, and Victoria thinks it's because she's seen them interact several times and they don't really seem like anything else. Also, now Max does seem to have a partner. Or something like her, at least.

"It's been a while since you two have seen each other, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, he's just been a bit busy with the European leg of his tour. He's doing well, yeah," Max lets out a proud smile, and Victoria detects it. "He's invited me over to his place to write some tunes and songs," Victoria smiles broadly, because she knows Max is eager to write, but Max stops her. "Simon doesn't like me hanging out with Louis, you know that, so you have to keep it a secret. You can't tell anyone!"

"I won't, I promise," Victoria gathers up her last things and they march to the car. The garage door opens, and a shiny new black Mercedes greets them, Victoria emitting a whistle of admiration that meets Max's rolling eyes. "Do you have any ideas yet? You have to tell me as soon as you write something!"

Max holds onto the steering wheel as she lets out a pleasant chuckle. She likes knowing that Victoria is as excited as she is about the fact, and she gives her a long look when they're at a stoplight, her eyes lost in Victoria's excitement as she talks and gestures and doesn't notice Max admiring her from the driver's seat with infinite gratitude. There is no one she can talk to as easily as Victoria, and no one who understands her as well as the Italian.

The studio is not too far away, so it doesn't take them long to get there. They talk about banal, unimportant things, but there is never any silence, which indicates that they are both comfortable. Victoria asks about Louis out of interest, and more out of courtesy for Connor. She hasn't seen him show up at the house in days, and though she secretly hopes things have cooled down, Max denies her that. "He's been on holiday with his siblings at the beach these days, so we've hardly seen each other. Maybe tonight we'll see each other, I don't know."

Victoria's expression freezes on her lips when she remembers that Max promised days before to have a little get-together between friends when the I wanna be your slave music video came out, and Connor is certainly not her friend. Victoria decides to slyly remind her, hoping for some response from the brunette. "You can tell him to come over tonight, sure. Damiano's already bought the whiskey for when we all watch the video together," she laughs, trying to get Max to take the hint.

But Max reacts: "Oh, no, no. I meant before we celebrate with you. I'm not going to miss the music video for the world. Here we are," the Englishwoman nods and smiles, "By the way. I don't say this much, even though I should, but I want you to know how proud I am of you guys. You're doing it! A few months ago, when I met you, you were still making your way in Europe... And look at you now. You're going to go far, Vic," the Italian gives her a short hug over the console, because that's how she feels, and when she breathes in the vague scent of the Englishwoman's shampoo, it fills her nostrils, so she sighs, somewhere between relieved and relaxed. "Come on, you'll be late. I'll see you later, okay?"

The brunette waits in front of the building until Victoria enters, out of habit and safety, and doesn't leave until she sees her disappear behind the tinted windows. Then she sets off on her way to Louis's house, and sighs, her elbow leaning against the window and her other hand driving, because she knows she's about to be subjected to something that could be likened to a third-degree interrogation. It's been days, almost weeks, since she's spoken to Louis at length, so she suspects he's read the press and social media, and will be keen to know how Max now suddenly seems more off the market than on it.

And not that Max minds telling him things, because after all he's her best friend and knows the industry better than she does, so he'll be able to give her advice after all the media relationships the guy has had. She also knows that telling him about her life will also entertain Louis, who is still in therapy, although it seems to be getting better, as Max has recently seen some Instagram stories in which he was with little Freddie playing the guitar. And yet, although she trusts her friends, she prefers to keep her private life that way, behind closed doors, but she knows that won't be possible.

She arrives in a matter of ten minutes and gets out of the car, greeted by Louis at the front door, dressed in similar clothes to her, in tracksuits and with a tired smile on his face.

She gives him a hug and, as usual, Max picks on him for standing on his tiptoes to try to be taller than her. "Everything alright, yeah? Come in, come in. Fancy a drink? I just had breakfast, but I could fix you something."

Max wrinkles her nose in derision. "With your culinary skills? No, thanks," Louis taps her on the shoulder and she groans. "Just kidding, just kidding."

"Well, have you had any great new ideas?" Louis jumps right in. At his house —Max might actually say mansion— he has a built-in studio, so they head straight there. It's clear they're not going to produce anything anymore, but it gives a more professional and serious feel for composing.

Max is quiet for a moment, because she thinks she has had an idea, although she wouldn't call it 'great'. All the songs she has sung before have been either covers or songs that make no sense to her because she hasn't written them herself. So this time, Max wants to turn it around and write something that comes from her own heart.

"Maybe. Following the advice you gave me, to write about things I live or feel, I've written something these days. It's probably shit, but it's an idea I want to start from, see what you think," the brunette hands a notebook to Louis, who looks at it carefully, knowing that an artist's notebook is a precious thing.

"We hide our figures doing anything to shut them out. We smile, a way to ease the tension so it don't go south. But there's nothing funny now," Louis reads aloud, thinking for a moment, "Wow, that's strong. Has anything like that ever happened to you?"

"Who hasn't had something like that?" Max replies wryly. The percentage of women she knows who have been sexually harassed in some way is increasing by the minute. "I haven't had anything happen to me recently, but we did have an incident a couple of weeks ago in a pub. That's where I split my lip, I'm sure you saw it on Twitter, but luckily it all worked out."

Louis nods seriously. "I'm glad everything's fine now. Some people don't know how to behave when they've had a bit to drink, eh?" Max understands the reference, but she knows Louis has never been violent when he's had a few too many drinks, he just laughs more than usual, completely harmless. "The magazines say that's where you met Connor."

The Englishwoman clears her throat, because she knows the moment would come sooner or later. "Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I went out for some fresh air before all that happened and he joined me while I had a cigarette. In fact, he was the one who tipped me off about the whole mess that was going on with Victoria, so I can say it's partly thanks to him that nothing happened."

"He seems like a nice guy, then. I know the media and social media blow everything out of proportion, so I'd rather ask you personally than believe anything the paparazzi said. Are you two together? You know, are you an official couple?" Louis blurts out with a mocking sneer, and Max gives him a menacing look.

"Well... sort of. We've been seeing each other almost every day since then, and we actually get along really well. He's very attentive, and he seems to take being chased by reporters day after day very well, so as long as this lifestyle doesn't get to him, I'm comfortable."

Louis nods again as, with Max's silent permission, he picks up her notebook again and bites his tongue as he writes something or other around it. "So, you like him."

Max is silent, because it's a question that seems obvious to ask but is difficult to answer. Does she like his company? Yes. Does she like his character, how he behaves with her? Yes. Does she like him physically? Definitely yes. But it's rare to admit out loud that she's attracted to Connor, because Max knows she's in the eye of the storm in journalism being represented by Simon Cowell, so she knows she has to be private and cautious with all her personal relationships, because if anything happens, the whole internet will know about it.

"Well, yes. You could say that."

Louis nods, impressed, and hums to himself. "Strange."

The Englishwoman stares quizzically for a few moments, thinking about the meaning of that single word. "Pardon?"

"Oh, no, don't get me wrong. I'm happy that you're happy. I just thought you had... someone else in your life. I don't know if I'm making myself clear," at Max's thoughtful look, Louis shrugs. "Yeah, the blonde Italian girl. Victoria, right?"

"Vic? Why?"

"I don't know, the way you acted with each other. You interact sometimes on Twitter, you post stuff on your Instagram of her, and you hardly ever do that with anyone. I've seen you guys a few times and I don't know, the way she looked at you, I thought so. Call it intuition. But hey, sorry if that bothered you, huh? I just wanted to share it with you, in case you've ever felt that way. But you're with Connor, so I can see you haven't."

Louis keeps talking, but Max doesn't know what about anymore. She stands hesitantly, staring at nothing, or lowering her head to watch her hands and fingers intertwine with each other involuntarily, looking for a situation to keep herself occupied so Louis doesn't notice her bewilderment. Victoria? How was she looking at her? Max hasn't stopped to think that Victoria might be the slightest bit attracted to her, she thought she just saw her as a friend. She thinks no, that it's not possible and that Louis must be confused, but something inside her tells her that Louis' intuition rarely fails.

For the rest of the morning she remains distracted. She manages to have a moment of lucidity, but she thinks about their previous conversation and keeps thinking about the fact that Victoria might feel something more for her than just friendship, and wonders if at some point something might have happened to make her realise it. It's true that she behaves differently towards her, in a much closer way than any friend, but she doesn't know if she senses that anything has happened between them that might have made these supposed feelings blossom.

More importantly, does Max know if these supposed feelings are reciprocated?

"How about adding this before your lines? Look: 'Sick intuition that they taught us so we won't freak out'. It might rhyme with your last line."

The video clip ends with Damiano whispering the title of the song, and then everything turns red and then black. Damiano lowers the laptop screen, turning it off, and the four of them wait for a reaction from their friend. "So? What did you think?"

Suddenly Max gets up from the sofa and starts jumping up and down, shouting excitedly. She really feels like those four Italians were babies a few months ago compared to what they are now, and it makes her immensely proud. She has learned to take their tastes into account, to understand their behaviour and to love them, and seeing them succeed now makes her feel like a proud mother. "I loved it! People are going to love you guys!"

Thomas lets out an excited shout and lifts her off the floor in a flutter. Everyone is very excited, and Max seems to watch as Damiano premieres the bottle of booze, taking a big gulp. The five of them are thankful they don't have any neighbours, because they turn up the music on the speakers in the living room and start drinking intermittently.

The four Italians sit on the floor around the table and start playing drinking games because Max gets a phone call. It's half past eight in the evening and she's not expecting any calls, but when she sees on the ID that it's her mother, she doesn't hesitate to ask for the music to be turned down, go out into the garden and take it even though she's already got a shot or two in her.

"Mum, what's up?"

"Max! I finally got through to you. You seem like a busy person these days, eh?"

The Englishwoman gently taps her forehead. "I'm sorry, Mum. I've been out all day today with Louis and I've turned the phone off. Is something wrong?"

"Can't a mother want to talk to her daughter for no apparent reason?" Max's mother ventures with an obvious sarcastic tone, at which Max rolls her eyes. "I get back from my trip on Tuesday, and I'd like to know how the Queen of England will have her schedule so we can arrange dinner."

"Mum, you're overreacting. You know I can have dinner with you whenever you want. Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yes, yes, don't worry, honey. I just wish we could talk, mother to daughter, you know. You're getting older, but you'll always be my little girl, and I'd like us to keep the same relationship. You can bring a friend, if you like."

"Mum," Max drags out the 'u' because she knows her mother's intentions are very different from the innocent ones she lets on.

"It's just that I've heard from the magazines that you apparently have a boyfriend, and you have the decency not to tell me! But well, that's the least of it, I understand that you don't want to share everything with me. The point is that you can invite this boy to our dinner, I'm sure he's a lovely guy. But well, I won't bother you any more. See you Tuesday, don't forget! I love you."

"I won't, Mum, don't worry. I love you too. Enjoy the rest of your trip."

Max hangs up the phone, and doesn't waste another second in approaching the group of young people, each one more inebriated. They seem to have played a game called 'Never have I ever', because that's what she can see on the screen of Ethan's phone, the soberest of them all, and yet a silly giggle escapes him. She sits down in the gap between Damiano and Thomas, who welcome her with open arms, and faces Victoria and Ethan.

Her phone rings again within minutes, and this time it's not her mother. Connor and a heart appear as the sender of the message, and everyone sees it, because it's her phone in the middle of the table to read the questions in the game, and can see that the mood drops considerably, because they know that Max should answer Connor's message.

'everything alright? heard u were celebrating!' is the message the boy sends, and Max smiles at the interest.

She doesn't get to watch as Victoria glares at the smile on her face.

"You can tell him to come, if she wants to," Damiano encourages her, though Max is oblivious to the fact that the only intention he has is to find out Victoria's reaction and the Englishwoman's response.

Max looks around, unsure. She knows that Connor's presence will always be welcome: after all, he's remembered as the guy at the party who made sure nothing serious happened, so they'll always be grateful to him, at least in that way. Still, Max prefers to spend the night as it is, because she's having a good time and because, frankly, maybe Maneskin and Connor aren't the most compatible companions.

At the false encouragement of the others, mostly out of politeness, Max picks up the phone.

'you should come,' she writes the first time. She changes the message once, twice, even three times, a mix between not putting him on the spot to come, and her hidden desire to spend time alone with the group. Finally she decides to put the phone down and pretend she hasn't read the message.

"Tonight is just for you and me," Max finally decides, and the group cheers, albeit without malice.

Victoria can't help but notice how she was the only one Max looked at while she was talking.