Kirby leaned in, inspecting her hair and makeup, then kissed her quickly on the lips. “Nope. You look perfect.”
“Thanks.” Gemma combed a hand through her dark waves of hair, the streetlight shining through the windows and hitting the golden highlights that coursed through it.
“So we’re still sneaking around, then?” Kirby asked, leaning back in the seat and watching her smooth out her skirt and straighten her top.
“We’re almost done,” she said. “Tomorrow I am officially ungrounded.”
“That’s kind of a bummer,” Kirby said, and she shot him a look. “There’s something kinda hot about sneaking around, worrying about getting caught.”
Gemma laughed, and Kirby closed his eyes as if relishing the sound. She was careful that she never sang around him—she didn’t want to put a spell on him. But her voice and even her laughter had an effect on him.
“Look at you, pretending to be a bad boy,” she teased.
“Hey, I’m pretty tough.”
He flexed his muscles, and she leaned over and kissed him. He put his arms around her, trying to pull her in for a longer kiss, but she broke away from him.
“Sorry, Kirby, but I really gotta go,” Gemma said. “My dad’s probably waiting up for me as it is.”
“Lame.” Kirby sighed, but he let her go. “I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Gemma opened the car door and slid out. “See ya.”
She shut the door behind her and jogged down the block toward her house. When Kirby dropped her off, she always made him park around the corner so her dad couldn’t peek out the front window and catch them making out.
As she went past Alex’s house, she kept her eyes fixed on the sidewalk, refusing to look up at it. It didn’t do any good to see if his car was in the driveway or if his bedroom light was on. He didn’t want to see her anymore, and that was the way it had to be.
Her own house looked dark, which she took as a good sign. Brian had to work early in the morning, so hopefully he’d already gone to bed. When Gemma opened the front door, she tried to be as quiet as possible.
But as soon as she closed the front door, a table lamp clicked on, and Gemma nearly screamed.
“Oh, my gosh, Harper.” Gemma put her hand to her chest and leaned back against the door. “What the heck was that?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” Harper said.
She’d turned their dad’s chair so it faced the doorway and sat in it with her arms crossed over her chest. Her long dark hair was up in a messy bun, and she wore her old ratty pink pajama pants, which really ruined her imposing look.
“You didn’t need to hide out in the dark like a maniac.” Gemma gestured to the lamp sitting on the table next to Harper. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Good.”
“Good?” Gemma rolled her eyes and groaned. “Seriously? It’s gonna be one of those talks?”
“What do you mean, ‘those talks’?” Harper asked.
“The kind where you lecture me on everything I’m doing wrong.”
“I’m not lecturing you,” Harper said defensively. “It’s just…” She took a deep breath and tried to start over. “It’s after ten o’clock at night, and play rehearsal was supposed to end two hours ago. You’re lucky that Dad is trusting you again, but I know that rehearsal doesn’t run that late.”
“Because Daniel is narcing on me,” Gemma muttered and stared down at the worn rug on the floor.
“Daniel is not ‘narcing’ on you.” Harper bristled at the accusation. “I know because I drove past the theater, and nobody’s cars were there. And based on the amount of eyeliner you’re wearing and the ridiculously short length of your skirt—”
“It’s not ridiculous,” Gemma said, but she pulled down her skirt.
“—I can only assume that you’re running around with some boy,” Harper said. “Do you know how dangerous that is for you? Of course you do. The sirens kill boys—you’ve seen it.”
Gemma stared at the floor. She still hadn’t told her sister about how she’d killed a guy before. He’d been assaulting her at the time, and that had incited Gemma’s transformation into the monster. But the real reason she’d killed him was because she had to. In order to survive as a siren, she had to feed.
Over the past four weeks, since Gemma had returned home and they’d struck a deal with Penn, Harper had come to suspect that murdering boys was how the sirens ate. She’d never asked Gemma directly if she’d killed anyone, so Gemma had never told her. But Harper must’ve known that if Gemma hadn’t killed anyone already, she’d have to soon.
“It’s not like that.” Gemma sighed. “He’s just a guy that I’m working with in the play, and we’ve been hanging out. It’s no big deal.”
“Some guy?” Harper raised an eyebrow.
“It’s Kirby Logan,” she said.