Page 61 of Final Girls

“Which is practically the same as creepy.”

“Well,Ithink he’s mysterious. And hot.”

“And taken,” Quincy added. “You’re forgetting the girlfriend.”

Now it was Janelle’s turn to roll her eyes. “Whatever.”

“I just want to state for the record that the rest of us don’t want him here. We’re only letting him stay because it’s your birthday.”

“Duly noted,” Janelle said. “And don’t worry. I plan on keeping him very entertained.”

Done with wrangling into the dress, Quincy backed up to Janelle, who zipped her up. Both of them examined her reflection in the mirror. Although the dress was tighter than Quincy normally liked, Janelle was right. She looked sexy.

“Wow,” she said.

Janelle wolf-whistled. “You look so good, I might even try to fuck you.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Janelle made a few adjustments, giving a tight tug of the hem before smoothing some fabric bunched at Quincy’s shoulders.

“Perfect.”

“You think?” Quincy asked, despite already knowing that it was, indeed, perfect.

Yet something still bothered her.

“What’s wrong?” Janelle asked.

“It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Janelle said, sighing out the word. “It does. But it also feels good.”

“Which will I feel more of? The bad or the good?”

“That’s the weird part. They’re one and the same.”

Quincy looked in the mirror, zeroing in on the eyes of her reflection, uneasy at the fear she saw in them. “You sure?”

“Trust me.” Janelle wrapped her arms around Quincy, hugging her from behind. “Would I ever lead you astray?”

16.

Coop insists on walking us back to my place, even though Sam and I are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves. Last night made that abundantly clear. Sam walks alongside him, matching his pace stride by careful stride.

I lag behind, my face lifted to the sun. It’s a bright, hot afternoon—the last kiss of Indian summer before winter begins its slow takeover. The bruise on my face pulses a little, warmed by the sunlight. I picture it reddening into visibility along my skin. I want Coop to turn around, finally notice it, widen his eyes in concern. But he stays two steps ahead with Sam, their strides still matching as they round the corner onto Eighty-Second Street.

Both of them immediately stop.

I do too.

Something is going on outside my building. A horde of reporters has gathered there, so large and unruly we can see them from two blocks away.

“Coop.” My voice is weak. An echo of its normal self. “Something’s wrong.”

“No shit,” Sam says.

“Stay calm,” Coop says. “We don’t know for certain why they’re here.”

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