Page 60 of Final Girls

“That’s not a bad thing, you know.”

“It is if you’re trying to get some.”

“Craig knows it will be my first time.”

“Which that dress makes glaringly obvious,” Janelle said, eyeing her from head to foot. “I have an idea.”

She opened one of her two suitcases and tossed something at Quincy. It was a dress. White silk. As cool and shimmering as a swimming pool.

“Isn’t white, like, the most virginal color?” Quincy asked.

“The color of the dress says virgin, but the cut says sex. It’s the best of both worlds. Craig will love it.”

Quincy rolled her eyes. Typical Janelle, who had been obsessed with the madonna-whore complex ever since they learned about it in Psych 101.

“What are you going to wear?”

Janelle turned back to her suitcase. “I brought extras, of course.”

“Of course.”

Quincy held the dress against her body, examining it in the room’s grimy square of a mirror. The cut, with its plunging bodice and asymmetrical skirt, looked a little too sexy for her taste. Even with her back turned, Janelle could sense her hesitation. “Just try it on, Quinn.”

Quincy slid out of the blue dress, which gave Janelle the opportunity to take a disapproving look at her bra and panties. Mismatched and worn, they were the antithesis of sexy.

“God, Quinn, really? Did you not plan any aspect of this weekend?”

“No,” Quincy said, holding the recently removed blue dress to her chest, trying to hide behind it. “Because planning puts pressure on something. And I don’t want any pressure. Whatever Craig and I do this weekend, I want it to happen naturally.”

Janelle gave a sisterly smile and brushed a strand of blond hair from Quincy’s face. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.” Quincy grimaced at the anxious quiver in her voice. “I’m just... inexperienced. What if I’m—”

“Lousy at sex?”

“Um, that’s one way to put it.”

“You won’t know until you try it,” Janelle said.

“What if Craig doesn’t like it?”

Quincy thought back to what Janelle had said earlier, about Craig having plenty of options besides her. She knew all too well about the cheerleaders who fawned over him after games and the fangirls in school colors who yelled his name in the quad. They would be all too willing to take Quincy’s place if Craig was disappointed in her.

“He’ll like it,” Janelle said. “He’s a guy, after all.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“You will. It just takes some getting used to.”

Quincy felt a flutter in her stomach. More than a butterfly. A bird flapping. “How much getting used to?”

“It’ll be fine,” Janelle assured her. “Now, show me how that dress looks on you.”

Quincy slid on the dress, the white silk tickling her bare legs. As she tugged and adjusted it over her shoulder, Janelle said, “What do you think of Joe? He’s kind of hot, right?”

“More like creepy,” Quincy said.

“He’s mysterious.”

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