Page 15 of Siren's Game

The outfit looks cute, but it needs something dark to round it off.

Good thing I took my thigh-high boots along to Philly. My brain kept repeating ‘you hate wearing them, they make your legs sweaty, why would you take them along?’ but something told me to pack them anyways.

Great. So that's decided.

I run to my bathroom and fire on my hair straightener while I brush my teeth. Yes, it's really goddamn tedious to straighten my hair every damn day, but the label says I must, so what's a girl going to do?

They're playing the polar opposites shtick with Millie and me, and for now, I'm contractually obligated to stick to it. I’m just glad they’re not making me wear my reading glasses in public.

But the way they dictate what we’re supposed to look like is another factor that's recently had me reconsider a lot of things about my future with Starlet Sounds. I fear for the day I will have to talk to Millie about it. She seems really happy with them and I am scared shitless that my issues with them will be the end of the Sirens.

But that’s a problem for future me. For now, I put my toothbrush aside and finally get to my hair.

My sigh fogs up the bathroom mirror as I try to run my comb through it. My ends are fried again and it gets stuck. I guess I'll need to have those trimmed soon.

The heat protection spray fizzles in my hair as I hastily pull my iron through it. Glancing at my bathroom clock in the mirror, I realize that I need to leave in ten minutes. There's only barely enough time for me to get my hair done and throw on my most basic makeup look.

That’s one of the perks of being a world-renowned popstar, I guess. At one point you're so versed with your makeup since you need to do it every single time you leave your apartment that a basic coverage and mascara only take five minutes.

Finally, I pull on my boots and run out the door, almost leaving my phone behind. God, I'm so excited for Millie and Luca.

Millie is nervous. Her feet are always moving, even while we're singing, and she's always wringing her hands, her fingers playing with a new bracelet on her wrist, twisting little pearls between them.

I was so confused when she stepped out of the elevator in our building wearing pink sweatpants, but as soon as our vocal training was over, she excused herself to the bathroom and changed into the dress.

That's so smart. I wish I'd thought of that instead of keeping my thigh-high boots on the whole day. They are adorable and keep my legs warm outside, but inside? Just like predicted, I'm sweating under the leather-like fabric, grimacing in disgust when a drop runs down my leg from the back of my knee. That’s when I decide to take them off for the remainder of our workday.

"Do I look okay?" Millie wonders, facing the giant mirror wall in the improvised vocal studio and taps a bit of lipstick onto her lips.

"Yeah, you look cute," I say and step closer to the mirror as well. She really does. Like spring and sunrays personified, where I'm more of a 'night in autumn' kind of style.

Only her hair looks a bit uneven on one side, thanks to the headphones we have to wear in order to hear the music and ourselves properly, so I reach out my hand to fix it. Millie chuckles when I ruffle her hair.

"There. Perfect," I declare. God, I’m actually a bit emotional. Like I’m sending my sister off to elope or something.

"Thank you." Her smile is shaky and nervous, but she quickly composes herself to her usual cheery self. "Ah, by the way. I made you something." She grabs her handbag and ruffles through it, pulling out her wallet and some gum, before making a triumphant sound at the back of her throat. "Give me your hand."

I hold it out for her, and she slides something over my fingers until a small, cool weight sits at my wrist. I look at it curiously once she lets go of me. It's a bracelet, made out of black pearls with only one single white pearl sitting at the centre. A look at her wrist reveals that she's wearing a bracelet with the exact opposite colour combination.

It makes me strangely emotional. What is it with all of thesefeelingstoday?

"I found these cute pearls and just had to make you one too. Do you like it?"

I gulp past the emotion building in my throat. That's so sweet. Almost too sweet. I don’t even know what to say.

"I love it," I press out, past the knot in my throat. "Thank you."

She tries to get me to tell her who we're meeting, but by now I'm pretty resolved to keep it a surprise. It's not much longer until she'll know anyway; it's almost time to go.

"Why don't you go ahead?" I ask her, my heart beating in my chest. Please, just let her do it and not question it. Or question it, because she’s not dumb, and do it anyway.

"Why aren't you coming along?" She raises her eyebrow, suspicion written all over her face. That’s when I realize that she knows I’m up to something.

"Uhm, I—" I stutter, my eyes darting around the room to find any excuse. As good as my plan was, I maybe should have thought ahead a bit better. "I . . . need to make a quick call?"

Her eyebrows almost disappear in her hairline as high as she's raising them. She continues to look at me, silence falling, until she finally chuckles and shrugs.

"Alright. Don't take too long." And then she walks out of the studio.

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