Melanie laughed, looping her arm through his as they walked out. "Deal."

Phoebe stood in the backyard, gripping two life-size cardboard cut-outs of MKTO, their faces gleaming with printed perfection under the afternoon sun. The wind tugged at their edges, and Phoebe angled them like makeshift kites, her brow furrowed in focus.

Max stepped onto the porch, leaning casually against the railing. He blinked at the sight, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Phoebe, are you taking the cut-outs for a walk?"

Phoebe shot him a look, her chin lifting defiantly. "That's ridiculous. Who takes cardboard cut-outs for a walk?" She adjusted the angle of the cut-outs and smiled. "I'm using them as kites."

Max blinked. "Lame alert!"

Phoebe's eyes narrowed. "*It is not lame. I'm going to take a picture of them up in the air for the MKTO contest. Then they'll know my love for them is sky-high." She paused, grinning at her pun. "Get it?"

Max nodded slowly. "I get it. Yeah... it's still lame."

Phoebe huffed, but before she could retort, Barb stepped out, holding a laundry basket. She paused, watching Phoebe with mild amusement. "Please tell me you're not using my good clothesline for that stunt."

Phoebe waved her off. "It's for the contest. Don't worry, Mom. It's artistic."

Barb shook her head with a chuckle. "If the neighbors start asking, I'm telling them it's Max's science project." She disappeared back inside.

Max laughed under his breath before turning his attention back to Phoebe. "Lucky for you, I've got a winning idea that'll only cost you one of your tickets."

Phoebe's eyes narrowed. "You wanna go to the MKTO concert? What's her name?"

Max hesitated a beat. "Cassandra. From school. She's going, and I told her I'd meet her there."

Phoebe tilted her head, mock sympathy in her voice. "Aw, Cassandra's so sweet." She paused, then smirked. "Why would I ruin her life by helping you date her?"

Max groaned. "Okay, fine. What's it gonna take?"

Phoebe glanced at her cut-outs, then back to Max. "I don't know. My kite idea is already genius. Right, guys?" She turned to the cut-outs like they were real.

Max arched a brow. "Pretty sure they agree with me."

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew, knocking one cut-out face-first into the dirt. Phoebe groaned as she bent to pick it up. "Betrayal."

Max chuckled. "All right, fine. What's your big idea? Throw me out of a plane?"

Phoebe's eyes gleamed. "Now that would go viral. But no. Malcolm loves classic cars and Siberian huskies, and Tony named his hamster Princess Leia. I know everything about MKTO.*" She paused. "But not so much that it's weird."

Max smirked. "No, definitely not weird at all."

Phoebe stood tall, voice rising dramatically. "I'm their most outrageous fan, and I'm falling for yooooouuuu!"

Max laughed as Phoebe pretended to fall backward, landing with a theatrical thud. "Cut! That was perfect. Now let me down."

"You got it," Max said, reaching out—only to accidentally tip her sideways with a loud thud.

Phoebe groaned from the ground. "Ow."

Max chuckled, offering her a hand. "Oops. You okay?"

Phoebe sat up, brushing dirt off her jeans. "Yeah, just don't let me land on my face next time."

"No promises," Max teased, helping her up.

A few minutes later, they were huddled around Max's laptop, uploading the video.

"Do you think we'll win?" Phoebe asked, her eyes scanning the screen.

Max grinned. "Between your freakish fan knowledge and my video skills? Slam-dunk."

Phoebe grinned, her excitement bubbling over. "Thank you so much for everything. Except for dropping me on my face."

"Character-building," Max said with a wink. "And I may or may not be rigging the contest."

Phoebe's brow lifted. "How?"

"Every four seconds, I'm slipping in a hidden message that says 'Pick me.'"

Phoebe gasped. "Brilliant. But for the record, it's 'monkey heinies,' not butts. Look it up."

Just then, Melanie walked into the room, her casual confidence filling the space. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a playful smile on her lips. "Do I even want to know?"

"Just Max being sneaky," Phoebe said with a grin. "And probably illegal."

Melanie laughed, stepping closer and brushing her fingers through Max's hair. "Sounds about right." She glanced at the screen, then back at Max. "But if it works, I'll forgive you."

Later that day, the notification came through, and Phoebe's gasp echoed off the walls. "MKTO! Oh my gosh, we won! We actually won!"

Max grinned, throwing up his hand. "Up top!"

Phoebe slapped it, her grin wide. "I take back every bad thing I've ever said about you."

"Of course you do," Max said smugly. "Anything for my sister. Now get lost. Cassandra's coming."

Just as Phoebe left the room, Cassandra walked in, her smile soft. "Hey, Max. You getting excited for our concert date?"

Max straightened, but his grin faltered when Cassandra's expression shifted.

"Bad news," she said with a sigh. "My ticket fell through. I can't go."

Max hesitated. "Maybe we can do something else?"

Cassandra shook her head. "You love MKTO. You have to go."

"I also love waterslides," Max said, leaning against the table, trying to play it cool. "We could find one and hang out there instead."

But Cassandra smiled softly, shaking her head. "I can't do that to you. You just have to go for the both of us."

Max hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. Melanie caught his gaze, her brow raised in silent question. She didn't say anything, but her eyes told him she understood more than he realized.

Cassandra smiled again, but it was softer this time. "Have fun, okay?"

Max nodded, even though a small part of him wondered if maybe he was looking forward to the concert for reasons that had nothing to do with MKTO—and everything to do with who he'd rather be standing beside.

As Cassandra gave Max a final smile and turned to leave, Melanie lingered by the doorway, arms crossed and an innocent expression plastered across her face. She tilted her head slightly, eyes wide with mock surprise.

"Oh no," Melanie said, her voice laced with faux sympathy. "Cassandra, that's such a shame about your ticket falling through."

Cassandra paused, glancing back. "Yeah, I'm pretty bummed. But it's okay. Max will have fun enough for both of us." She flashed a final smile before walking out the door.

The moment the door clicked shut, Melanie's sweet expression melted away into one of sly satisfaction. She pushed off the doorframe, sauntering toward Max with her hands on her hips.

Max narrowed his eyes, sensing the shift. "What?"

Melanie feigned innocence, her voice light. "Nothing. Just... such a shame about Cassandra's ticket. What a weird coincidence, huh?"

Max's brow furrowed, suspicion creeping in. "Weird? You think it's weird her ticket fell through?"

Melanie shrugged, though there was an unmistakable glint in her eyes. "Stuff happens." She moved closer, her arms sliding around his shoulders as she looked up at him. "But maybe it's for the best. Now you don't have to spend the whole night trying to impress Cassandra."

Max blinked, confused. "Impress her? She's just my friend, Mel."

Melanie's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sure. Just friends." She let the words hang in the air, teasing, but there was an edge of challenge beneath her tone. "I'll believe that when I see it."

Max pulled back slightly, his confusion deepening. "Come on, you know there's nothing going on. Cassandra's nice, but that's it. I'm going for the music."

Melanie's gaze softened a little, but her arms stayed wrapped around him. "I'm sure that's what you tell yourself."

Max's eyes narrowed, catching the underlying accusation. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Melanie shrugged again, this time more casually, but her grip didn't loosen. "It means... sometimes girls get the wrong idea when a guy's being nice. And Cassandra? She's not exactly subtle."

Max's brow furrowed. "I told you, we're just friends."

Melanie tilted her head, her voice lowering. "And I'll believe that... when I see it."

The air between them thickened, a silent challenge lingering. Melanie leaned in, her lips brushing his in a slow, deliberate kiss that left no room for doubt. When she pulled back, her gaze was steady, sharp.

"Just friends," she repeated quietly, but there was a spark in her eyes, something possessive, something daring. "Prove it."

Max held her gaze, the words caught in his throat. Because for the first time, he wasn't sure if Melanie was being playful... or if this was something deeper. Something neither of them was quite ready to confront.

Melanie walked into the living room just as Max frantically tore through the pile of papers on the counter, his expression wild with determination. Phoebe stood nearby with her arms crossed, watching him with a smirk. Barb leaned against the doorway, casually sipping her coffee, while Billy bounced in place, clearly more entertained by the chaos than concerned.

"Do you really think I'm gonna give you both MKTO tickets?" Phoebe asked, her eyebrow arched in challenge.

Max didn't even pause, tossing papers aside like a man on a mission. "Do monkeys have monkey butts?" he shot back, his voice full of determination.

"Heinies," Billy corrected with a grin, eyes wide.

"Whatever they sit on!" Phoebe snapped, her tone sharp. "The answer is no."

Melanie watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame, her arms crossed. Her lips twitched in amusement. "Max, are you out of your mind? It's a concert, not a life-or-death mission."

Max turned to her, his eyes wide and a little frantic. "It's MKTO, Mel. This is important."

Melanie chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "You look like you're ready to fight someone for those tickets. Relax."

Phoebe turned back to Barb, her voice urgent. "Mom, did the concert tickets get here?"

Barb gave a lazy nod, still sipping her coffee. "Yeah, I left them with the mail."

Phoebe froze. "Where's the mail?"

"On top of the magazines," Barb answered.

Max's shoulders stiffened. "And where are the magazines?"

Barb hesitated, a wince crossing her face. "In Shreddy's belly."

Melanie's face twisted in horror. "You shredded our tickets?"

Billy gasped dramatically. "Shreddy, no!"

Barb winced again. "I'm not sure, honey. I shredded the list of things I shredded, so... it's a mystery."

Melanie stifled a laugh, covering her mouth. "Oh my gosh, Max, you're cursed. First Cassandra, now this. Should we start planning a memorial for those tickets?"

Max shot her a look, though a hint of a smile tugged at his lips despite the panic. "Not helping, Mel."

Phoebe just shook her head, clearly enjoying the show. "Don't worry. The tickets must be in one of the trash bags out back. Unless, of course, Shreddy developed a taste for concert dreams."

Max groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Not so popular now, are you, Shreddy?" He turned on his heel, marching toward the back door. "I'm gonna find those tickets if it's the last thing I do."

Melanie followed him with her gaze, amusement still twinkling in her eyes. "I'll grab the gloves. You're gonna need 'em."

Billy grinned as he watched Max storm off. "Hey, Max? If you find a pizza coupon in there, can you save it for me?"

Max groaned from the hallway, and Phoebe's laughter echoed after him, while Melanie just shook her head, still smiling. "Out of his mind," she whispered, though her tone was more affectionate than critical.

☆☆

Melanie waited until Max disappeared outside, the back door slamming behind him. The tension in her chest had been simmering for too long, but now it boiled over. She tried to push it down, tried to remind herself that it wasn't that serious, that Max wasn't doing anything wrong. But the jealousy, the anger—it clawed at her.

Without a word, she slipped down the hall and into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind her. The moment the latch clicked, her shoulders tensed. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her jaw clenched, eyes dark with frustration.

Why did this feel so intense? Why did the idea of Max going to that concert—possibly with Cassandra—set her off like this? She trusted him, didn't she?

But trust didn't silence the fury bubbling inside her.

With a sharp breath, Melanie's hands slammed onto the counter. Her perfume bottle toppled and shattered on the tile floor, the sweet scent of vanilla filling the small space. She didn't care. Her hands shook as she swept her arm across the sink, knocking over everything—lotions, toothbrushes, a glass cup—crashing into the porcelain with a sharp, ringing sound. The frustration tore through her like a storm.

She opened the cabinet beneath the sink and yanked out a basket, hurling it across the room. Bottles scattered, some clattering into the bathtub. Melanie pressed her hands to her face, fighting the urge to scream.

The chaos was hers. Her space to unravel.

No one came. No one knocked. No one dared.

Maybe they heard the crash, maybe they didn't. But it didn't matter. She needed this moment, this release. The anger had been bottled up for too long—about the concert, about Max brushing off her feelings, about pretending she wasn't hurting.

She needed to see them. Needed to look at him and Cassandra and know.

Know if Max meant it when he said they were just friends. Know if he'd really pick Melanie over everything else.

Melanie pressed her hands into the countertop, her breath ragged as she stared into the mirror again. Her reflection was wild-eyed, but beneath it was something more fragile—fear.

She hated that.

The door stayed closed. No one came. And for that, she was grateful.

Because in this moment, it was better to be alone.

Melanie stood in the middle of the living room, her arms crossed tightly as her gaze darted around. Panic prickled at the back of her neck. She needed to go. She had to be at that concert. The idea of Max and Cassandra going together gnawed at her, and she wasn't about to let that happen. Not without being there herself.

"I need to find those tickets," Phoebe said, her voice sharp with worry. She was practically tearing through the couch cushions. "How will Malcolm and Tony fall in love with me if they never see me?"

Melanie exchanged a glance with Phoebe, both girls caught in that shared whirlwind of panic. Melanie's chest tightened. She understood the desperation more than she cared to admit.

"You'll find the tickets, sweetie," Barb said, stepping in with her usual calm. "We'll help you. Come on."

Max strolled in from the kitchen, holding something up. "Hey, the concert tickets—"

Phoebe spun around, eyes wide. "Hey! What are you doing?"

Max hesitated, glancing at Melanie before responding. "She wouldn't have won if it wasn't for me. Maybe I should use the tickets... you know, to take that Cassandra girl who definitely likes me."

Melanie froze, her stomach twisting. Was he serious?

"She does like me!" Max added quickly, almost defensively.

Melanie's eyes narrowed, but before she could say anything, Phoebe's voice cut through the tension. "Max, why'd you call me? Did you find the tickets?"

Max's hands shot up in surrender. "No! I was just practicing how I'd yell your name if I did find the tickets—which I definitely did not."

Melanie's heart hammered in her chest, her mind racing. She needed those tickets. She wasn't about to let Cassandra swoop in and take her place.

Great. Still no tickets, but somehow Billy held up what looked like a pair of poorly crafted paper mittens. "I don't know how this happened," he muttered, confusion in his eyes.

Barb offered a small smile, her tone patient. "Don't worry, sweetie. We have two more hours before the concert. Everybody glue faster."

Melanie clenched her jaw. She hated feeling powerless. Her hands itched to do something—anything to take back control.

Phoebe groaned. "Just forget it. We're never gonna find them. At least I can still hang out with my cardboard cuties." She glanced around. "Anyone seen Malcolm and Tony?"

Max scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, here's Tony." He gestured to the slightly bent cardboard figure propped against the wall. "You... do not want to see Malcolm."

Phoebe groaned dramatically. "That's it. My life is officially over." She sank onto the couch, looking absolutely defeated.

Melanie crossed her arms, trying to shake the frustration pulsing through her. She needed to be at that concert. Not just to keep an eye on Max, but because it felt like everything was slipping through her fingers.

Barb stepped forward to comfort Phoebe, but her foot snagged on a magazine. She yelped, wobbling dangerously. "Oh! And I'm stuck!"

"Little help here, Hank?" she called, glancing toward the doorway.

Hank poked his head around the corner, a sheepish smile on his face. "I can't. I seem to have joined the band." He held up two splintered drumsticks, half-glued to his shirt.

Melanie didn't laugh. She didn't even smile. She just turned on her heel and headed for the door.

She didn't say anything, but she knew one thing for sure. If those tickets didn't turn up soon, she'd find another way to be there.

She had to.

Melanie stormed into Splatburger, frustration radiating off her in waves. Her shoe had given up on her three blocks ago, and now every step was a reminder that her day had gone from bad to worse. First the tickets, then Cassandra, and now this.

"Stupid shoe," she muttered under her breath, glaring down at it. "Can't even make it three blocks. I'm so done with this day."

Phoebe was already inside, looking just as exhausted. She glanced over her shoulder, greeting Melanie with a half-smile that quickly faded at the sight of her friend's scowl.

"Welcome to Splatburger," Ms. Wong chirped from behind the counter. Her hair was frizzed from stress, and she had the wild-eyed look of someone barely holding it together. "Forgive me, I'm a little flustered from this crazy dinner rush." She laughed, though the sound was brittle.

Melanie glanced around the nearly empty restaurant and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm the only one here," Phoebe deadpanned.

Ms. Wong waved a dismissive hand. "Uh, for now. But when that MKTO concert lets out, there's gonna be food flyin' out of that tube, and that tube, and—oh!" She motioned dramatically to the series of food tubes behind her. "Splat! Splat! Splat! Splat!"

Melanie sighed and slumped into the nearest booth, rubbing her temples.

"Sweet! This place is empty," Phoebe said, tugging off the fake mustache she'd worn earlier as part of some ridiculous disguise. Melanie shot her an annoyed glance but said nothing.

"Ow!" Phoebe winced as the adhesive tore at her skin.

Before Melanie could comment, the door swung open, and in walked MKTO—Malcolm and Tony. Melanie froze, her eyes widening.

"Oh great," she muttered, her day somehow managing to get even better.

The band walked in casually, chatting and laughing.

"Man, good thing no one's here," Malcolm said, glancing around. "I love our fans, but... we seem to lose a few every time they see you chew your food, you know?" He laughed, nudging Tony.

Tony grinned. "Okay, Mom."

Melanie's stomach twisted. She wasn't sure if it was from excitement or pure