MY WEDNESDAY MORNING ALARM might as well be a sledgehammer, beating the side of my head. Reaching for my nightstand with both eyes squinting, I feel around until I find my phone so I can silence the damn thing.

I don’t know why I’d have set an alarm for this morning anyway. I don’t have any auditions. No appointments. No meetings. Nowhere to be.

Placing my phone back on the nightstand, screen side down, I roll over and pull the covers over my head.

And then it chimes again.

“Are you serious?” I groan, reaching for it again, only this time I see Nick’s name flashing across my screen.

The brightness of the screen is a shock to my sensitive vision, but the time reads 8:04 AM.

“Why are you up this early?” I ask when I answer.

“Haven’t gone to bed yet,” he says when I answer.

“Oh. right. What’s up?” I stretch my free arm over my head and give Murphy a gentle nudge so he’s no longer hogging two-thirds of my bed.

“Just wanted to tell you congrats again.”

I chuckle. “Dork. You already told me last night.”

“Also, uh, I was going to see when you’re leaving,” he says.

“If you’re worried about the rent, don’t sweat it. I’ll still pay it.”

“No, no. God no, it’s not about the rent, Mel,” he says.

“Okay ...”

I’m really freaking confused now.

“Just wanted to know when you’re going to Louisiana,” he says. “I think we’ve got a tour date lined up in Baton Rouge next month. Would be cool to meet up.”

“Yeah. I’ll let you know. We’ll figure it out.” I yawn, my eyelids drifting shut despite the fact that my brain is suddenly wide awake. “We shoot in two weeks, but they want me there as soon as possible. I was probably going to head out by the end of the week.”

“Cool, cool.” Nick stalls on the other end.

Nick never stalls.

“You need anything else?” I throw the covers off my legs and trudge across the hard floor, heading to the bathroom. The scent of Sutter’s body wash still lingers in the humid air, but he’s long gone.

“You tell Sutter yet?” he asks. “About moving out?”

“I mean, yeah. He knows. Obviously. He went out with us last night. But I’m not technically moving out. I’m going to be shooting for two months, then I’ll come back and finish out the rest of your lease,” I say. “That’s my plan anyway. Why?”

“Was wondering how he took it.”

“Stop being weird.”

“I’m not.”

“You sound jealous,” I say.

“Don’t go replacing me, all right? I’m your best friend. Not him.”

“Grow up.” I chuckle, cradling the phone on my shoulder as I smear toothpaste on my purple toothbrush.

It’s then that I find one of my yellow Post-Its stuck to the mirror along with a note from Sutter.

Melrose,

The answer to the question you asked me last night is … all the time.

Sutter

What the hell did I ask him?

I manage to get Nick off the phone before wiping my mouth and heading downstairs to let Murphy out and get a drink of water and find some ibuprofen and brew a cup of coffee. The shades are all drawn, and I can’t help but wonder if Sutter left the house dark on my behalf.

He’s surprising me every day with this honeyed side of him I never knew existed.

In many ways, I feel like we’re still strangers and there’s still so much I don’t know about him. But I know one thing for sure … when I leave in a week, I’m going to miss him.