Thirst

HELLO TO YOU TOO DRACULA

At King’s Imperial College, Halloween wasn't just a single night of cheap plastic masks and candy; it was an absolute institution.

For an entire week, the gothic spires of the campus were draped in heavy, velvet-black bunting, jack-o'-lanterns with intricately carved, screaming faces lined the stone pathways, and the air buzzed with a chaotic energy.

Pranks were practically an extracurricular activity—skeletons dropped from library rafters, and illusions of phantom fog rolled across the quad.

For Juanita, it was pure heaven. Halloween had always been her favorite holiday growing up.

While other children shrunk away from horror movies and ghost stories, Juanita had leaned into it, obsessed with it even. Her complete lack of fear around monsters had always amused her father, earning her his favorite nickname: his little viper. She even had a pet spider when she was little and never ran from bugs, often keeping them even.

With the campus alive in celebration, Juanita pushed the terrifying memory of the rainy alleyway—and the impossible, fanged nightmare of Samil D’Amadeo—straight to the back of her mind. She refused to let a strange, smug, condescending jerk ruin her mood and occupy her thoughts.

She threw herself into every single activity, laughing until her stomach ached as she and Cherry—who was basically her best friend now—played increasingly ridiculous pranks on their history classmates and on each other.

She went to lectures, sang her heart out at Acapella rehearsals, and felt a profound, radiant happiness she had never experienced in the countryside. She had never felt so alive.

The grand finale of the week was the all-night Halloween ball, and Cherry had treated their costumes like a matter of national security. For days, their dorm room was a disaster zone of silk, sewing machines, and glitter. Cherry refused to let Juanita see the final product until the night of the party, channeling an intense, structural passion that deeply amused Juanita.

When the big night finally arrived, the reveal was worth the wait. Their costumes were witches, but there was nothing traditional or frumpy about them. Cherry’s outfit was a deep, mesmerizing purple, featuring a corset stitched with faux-runes and a billowing, sheer cape. Juanita’s costume was a fierce, blood-red velvet dress that hugged her curves perfectly, paired with a matching crimson-lined cloak. Around her neck, she wore the heavy silver-and-red locket her parents had given her years ago—the one family heirloom she never took off.

“Worth the wait babes? I made sure yours matched your locket and damn it fits you so well"

"Oh my god," Juanita breathed, staring at her reflection as Cherry applied a sharp, dark eyeliner to her eyes. "Definitely worth it, girl! I didn't expect it to be this good! You're so talented, please tell me you have plans to be a fashion designer cause like, Cherry, we look... insane! Like, actual runway models."

"b***h, we are gorgeous runway models," Cherry corrected proudly, shaking out her platinum-blonde braids. "At least, we are for tonight. Though I have walked the runway once for Gucci,” she shrugged and went to get a bottle of gin and shot glasses from their fridge. "Also yeah, I kinda want to get into fashion designing and my aunt is a high profile designer in Paris, I spent the summer with her so I picked up a thing or two. Enough of that now."

She passed Juanita a shot. “Come on, drink up. We're pregaming like the adults we are tonight and we still have to ensure our makeup is flawless."

They laughed, downing shots of sweet gin and blasting music while finishing their makeup. By the time they arrived at the university's underground grand hall, Juanita was beautifully tipsy, her head floating on a warm cloud of alcohol and adrenaline.

When they walked through the massive arched entrance, the reaction was immediate. They made a massive entrance, turning heads across the packed, smoke-filled room. A group of guys dressed as gladiators cheered, and a few girls whistled loudly.

Juanita threw her head back and laughed, her confidence soaring as she slid past the dancing crowds.

The party was a blur of flashing neon lights, heavy bass vibrating through the floorboards, and more drinks. Juanita danced until her feet ached, her hand securely wrapped around Cherry’s as they lost themselves in the music. Later in the night, they tumbled into a corner of the lounge where a massive group was playing party games.

Before Juanita could even register whose turn it was, she found herself pulled into a high-stakes round of truth or dare. A minute later, she was locked in a steamy, breathless drunk kiss with a butch lesbian dressed flawlessly as Vi from Arcane. The crowd roared around them.

When they finally broke apart, Juanita blinked, looking at the girl in sheer, happy wonder while the girl chuckled, wiping a smudge of red lipstick from her chin.

"Wow," Juanita breathed, a massive, brilliant grin breaking across her face. She turned to the laughing circle. "Well... happy pride to me!"

The entire corner erupted into cheers and laughter, Cherry shouting over the noise to clink her cup against Juanita's.

An hour later, the room was spinning just a bit too fast. Juanita and Cherry were back on the edge of the dance floor, panting.

"We need to sober up a little bit," Juanita shouted over the blaring music, her speech slightly slurred.

“Yeah, no s**t, it's just 11 o'clock! How did we get so drunk?"

“This is literally your own fault, Cher! I'll go to the bar. Let's get those... those grape juice ghoul slushies. I saw them on the menu."

"You're a lifesaver, Nita! I'll wait right here," Cherry yelled back, waving her off.

Juanita navigated the chaotic sea of costumes toward the long marble bar. The campus bartenders had outdone themselves, stocking every liquor and syrup imaginable. The bartender hit on her and she indulged a bit before giving him her order.

She leaned against the wood, waiting for her order, her vision a little fuzzy but her mood ecstatic.

And then, the air grew ice-cold.

The ambient noise of the bass seemed to dim, replaced by that sharp, heavy magnetic pull that always made her throat tighten. She didn't even have to look to know he was there.

Samil slid into the space beside her. Juanita’s breath hitched. Her inebriated brain couldn't process the sudden rush of heat in her chest.

He was dressed as a vampire—a dark, velvet-lined modern suit with a crimson silk shirt unbuttoned slightly at the throat. It was devastatingly simple, but on him, it looked so dangerously sexy it made her dizzy. He didn't need fake fangs; his sharp, pale elegance did all the work.

"Do you like her?"

The words came out of his mouth before he even looked at her.

Juanita, thoroughly flustered and staring at him like pure eye candy, blinked stupidly.

"Huh?" she muttered, trying to snap back to reality.

Samil turned his face, his dark eyes boring into hers with an intense, unreadable focus. "Antonia. The girl you kissed. Do you like her?"

Juanita’s brain caught up, and she let out a loud, incredulous scoff. She rolled her eyes, a drunken, looping laugh bubbling past her lips. "Oh. Well hello to you too, Dracula."

"Do you like her?" he repeated, his voice dropping into a firmer, darker register that didn't sound like a joke at all.

The weight of his question threw her off completely. The warm alcohol in her veins turned into a sudden flash of irritation. She leaned against the bar, glaring at him. "Oh piss off. Why the f**k are you all up in my business, Samil? Seriously? A month ago you cornered me in a dark alley, looked like you were having a literal demonic medical emergency, and told me to stay the f**k away from you. Now you're lurking at a bar interrogating me about who I kiss? Kindly f**k off and don't ruin my night."

Samil’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening to pitch black. His chest rose as if he were about to speak, but a sharp voice cut through the space between them.

"Is he bothering you, Nita?"

Cherry stepped up beside them, her face a rigid mask of absolute hostility. She wrapped a protective arm around Juanita’s waist, shoving her slightly behind her shoulder while giving Samil a hard, lethal glare.

Juanita waved a hand dismissively, her inner drunken sailor taking over. "Oh, don't worry, Cher. I was already leaving this fuckass green-eyed monster—or maybe green-eyed vampire—to his own goddamn misery."

Right then, the bartender slid two dark purple slushies across the counter.

Cherry looked down at Samil’s elegant suit, her lip curling in a bitter sneer. "Coming as a vampire. How original."

Samil didn't back down. His hand tightened around the glass of dark wine he was holding, his knuckles turning white as he glared back at Cherry with a mutual, deep-seated hatred. "And you, a witch. I could say the same for your lack of creativity."

"Hmm, you don't say. I would be careful if I were you," Cherry said dryly, her voice laced with a strange, venomous undertone that went entirely over Juanita's head. "You wouldn't want to mess with a Black woman who can cast spells now, would you? Just stay the hell away from my best friend."

Cherry grabbed the slushies in one hand and Juanita’s wrist in the other, spinning on her heel and marching back into the crowd.

Juanita stumbled along behind her, thoroughly confused by the sheer venom that had just passed between them. "Okay... what the hell was that, Cherry?"

"What was what?" Cherry snapped, her shoulders rigid as she steered them toward a quieter corner. "He was being a d**k to you."

"No, you were like, extra mean," Juanita pointed out, sipping her slushie lazily. "You seemed to hate him way more than I do. And he looked like he wanted to murder you."

Cherry tutted dismissively, tossing her braids. "He's just a smug, elitist jerk. Whoever messes with you, messes with me. And if you hate someone, b***h, I hate them more. Come on, let's not let an arrogant vampire ruin our night."

Juanita let it go, the sugar and alcohol pulling her back into the rhythm of the party. They danced for another hour, but as the clock ticked past two in the morning, the heavy mix of weed smoke, sweat, and alcohol in the main hall became suffocating. Juanita felt a wave of nausea hit her.

"Cher, I need air," Juanita gasped, pointing toward the exit. "I'm gonna go to the roof for a bit."

"Want me to come?" Cherry asked, looking exhausted herself.

"No, stay, dance! And I saw that guy you kissed looking at you, so have fun. I just need five minutes of actual oxygen," Juanita smiled, slipping away before her friend could argue.