How it started…

The year was 2020. The location: Montauk, at the “Blue House.”

She walked into Max’s pandemic pad, and within minutes, he ran outside, took off his shirt, and walked back in like nothing happened — all to show off his six-pack. (That man knows how to flex… literally, and figuratively). While the abs weren’t exactly subtle, his way of asking if she was single was: he asked Sydney to find out for him. The answer? Yes.

From that moment on, Max had one goal: make sure Bruna’s crew had the exact same plans as his for the rest of the weekend. “Montauk Max” was about to orchestrate an unforgettable 72 hours — how could Bruna not fall for him? They shared moments… Max insisting she sit next to him at TT’s taco night, and him rehashing his Fyre Festival story (probably for the 100th time).

And then came the Fourth of July…

Max hosted the pregame. Bruna offered to stash his joints in her purse. Later that night, while he stood on the balcony and she was down below, they locked eyes. It wasn’t just a glance — it was a little fire. A “we’re on the same page” kind of moment. The kind of eye contact you feel in your chest. (And also a “let’s light up a joint kind of moment…) They spent the rest of the night weaving through the party, working the rooms, but always finding their way back to one another. A low-key, slow-burn crush had officially started.

By the final night of the weekend, it was undeniable.

At a house party, Bruna pulled Max for a chat, and asked the question that changed everything: “Are you going to kiss me or what?”

The next week, Max invited her back to Montauk. Bruna was deep in a Prolon cleanse — not eating or drinking until Friday — so they watched movies and slept in separate rooms for three nights. But once the house filled with another debaucherous wave of boys, they ended up together…

And the rest is history.