Her feet were there, sure, but how could she be expected to feel them? She’d been assigned to the green room—pale green, to be exact. Her sleep-deprived brain imagined someone taking her entire room and dipping it in watered-down pastel food coloring like an Easter egg. A door on the left side of the room had been propped open. Luna wandered over to it, peeking her head inside.

Adjoining suites! As far as she could tell the room mirrored hers, down to the monochromatic paintings on the wall, but was pink instead of green.

It truly took her brain a few seconds to process what she was seeing.

Pink.

The Pink Room, one of Jewel’s preferred filming locations. Using it was a surefire signal to Goldspiracy—holy-impending-emotionally-vulnerable content, Batman!

If Luna had been given the pink room, she truly wouldn’t have known how to act. Close proximity was good. Soothing pale green was for the best.

In the middle of the room, Alex was completely knocked out, fast asleep on the massive canopied bed. Face buried in the pillows. One socked foot hung off the side of the bed. Blanket wrapped tight around him. He’d left the lights on, so she clicked them off. He looked so peaceful, and Luna’s very last brain cell, the sole survivor from her conversation with Jewel, appreciated it.

Luna hesitated while closing his door.

Would leaving it open violate the girlfriend boundary? It’s not like they were sharing a room or a bed or anything like that. They were just sort of … next to each other. Suite mates, with direct access to the other’s room. Which she might need.

It hadn’t happened in a while, but waking up in unfamiliar places confused her. Luna forgot where she was, that she was safe, and not abandoned in her mom’s old apartment. The first few nights after moving in with Tasha had been filled with nightmares, screams, footsteps running down the hall, and endless cups of hot chocolate while watching Living Single reruns in Tasha’s room until the sun came up or she stopped snoring—whichever came first.

Tasha always rescued her. Every time. If she had an episode, if she couldn’t have Tasha, she only wanted Alex.

Luna bit her lip and let go of the knob, door still open. “Sorry, Melody,” she whispered.