"Is it real… really real? Ronan, I mean, is it actually happening?"
Over and over, Maxim tried his best to hold back his excitement and nervous energy, swallowing hard repeatedly. His shaky voice betrayed how much he was wrestling with hope and doubt, like he was terrified this might all just be a dream he'd wake up from. He couldn't settle down.
Ollie, on the other hand, had already thrown caution to the wind and started celebrating. He shouted and screamed at the top of his lungs, running around wildly. First, he hugged Ronan, then tackled a stunned Maxim, followed by Cliff, and finally charged toward Alice, looking like he was about to hug her too. But Alice blocked him with her camera, and Ollie realized she was still filming. Scratching his head, he mumbled an apology.
Cliff's muscles were still stiff as a board, his knees wobbly. When Ollie gave him a big bear hug and let go, Cliff nearly lost his balance, stumbling a couple of steps before slowly crouching down. He took deep, heaving breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.
"Ahhh!"
"Ahhh!"
Ollie's ecstatic yells kept echoing, completely unfiltered in his joy and excitement. They'd been waiting for a chance like this for so, so long.
Even Ronan couldn't help but break into a wide grin, a genuine laugh bubbling up from his throat. Then he noticed Maxim's slightly red-rimmed eyes and blinked in surprise. "Maxim, what's wrong?"
Maxim looked flustered, quickly ducking his head to wipe his eyes. "Nothing, nothing, just sweat," he muttered in a rush, then changed the subject. "Is it real? You're sure? It's really Bruno Mars? Not some scam call? Not an April Fool's prank?"
Ronan hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to lie—building up their hopes too high could lead to an even bigger letdown. They had to stay grounded.
"Ollie! Ollie!" Ronan called out to the still-dancing Ollie. Maxim's expression instantly tightened with nerves, and even Cliff looked up anxiously. Ronan felt a little sheepish and waved his hands. "It's not that complicated, don't worry."
Once Ollie jogged over, Ronan explained the whole phone call from start to finish, sharing his gut feeling about the situation.
"I don't think it's a scam email," Ronan concluded.
But Maxim wasn't fully convinced. He turned to Cliff. "Why didn't you take the call?"
Though he didn't say it outright, his tone hinted at a lack of complete trust in Ronan's judgment and handling of things.
Ronan took it in stride. For one, Cliff usually handled these kinds of band matters anyway, and Ronan knew he wasn't great at this stuff. For another, he couldn't give a definite answer either—the caller might be John Mark, Bruno Mars' tour manager, but he wasn't 100% sure. Even Ronan himself was holding back a bit of doubt.
Ollie, though, didn't like Maxim's tone one bit. His face darkened. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying Ronan messed up?"
"Ollie, you know that's not what I meant," Maxim said, looking awkward. He glanced at Ronan out of the corner of his eye, and seeing Ronan's calm, open smile only made him more uncomfortable. "I just want to be extra sure. We all know how big this chance is…"
But Maxim trailed off, too hesitant to finish his thought.
Cliff stepped in to back Ronan up. "I think Ronan handled it great. I couldn't have done any better." He didn't mention that he'd pushed Ronan to take the call because he was scared of repeating past mistakes. "If it's a pro scammer, I wouldn't have made a difference either."
Maxim's face fell a little, and he muttered under his breath, "One more person, one more opinion—I just wanted to double-check, that's all."
"But Ronan already checked, didn't he?" Ollie shot back, his words sharp and pointed. The air grew tense and awkward.
Ronan stepped in. "We all want this chance so badly—I get it. I feel the same way. That's why I'm being upfront about everything. We should head to Washington, but we shouldn't pin all our hopes on it. Even if it really is Bruno Mars' concert, we'll still need to win over the crowd with our music, just like at the Full Moon Party. Otherwise, it's all for nothing."
His tone was calm, simple, and honest.
Maxim's nerves eased a bit, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. He looked at Ronan and said sincerely, "Sorry."
Ronan flashed him a smile, brushing it off. Before the mood could stiffen again, he jumped in. "So, what do you guys think? If we're going, we need to check flights now."
Ollie stepped forward, moving past Maxim to stand by Ronan's side. "I trust Ronan's call. Count me in," he said firmly.
Maxim sighed, sensing Ollie's jab but letting it go. He nodded at Ronan. "Alright, let's go to Washington and see. Even if it's not exactly what we're hoping for, we can just treat it like a street gig in D.C."
His words showed he was still cautious, keeping his expectations in check to avoid a bigger disappointment.
All eyes turned to Cliff.
Cliff was aching all over by now, the crash after the adrenaline high leaving him hollow in a way words couldn't capture. He patted his shaky, weak knees and forced himself to stand, swaying slightly but managing a smile. "I've never been to Washington before."
Today, Cliff was actually more certain than Maxim. He didn't say it outright, but the meaning was clear.
"Oh yeah!" Ollie cheered loudly, flexing his biceps. His booming voice roared with excitement like a caveman on a rampage.
And just like that, One Day Kings was set to head to Washington for a new adventure—maybe even as the opening act for Bruno Mars. The band's final road trip wasn't over yet, and they were starting to savor it.
Maxim's face lit up with a smile too, Ollie's enthusiasm lifting his spirits.