Victim

LOOK, you two match!

Malia's POV

"Speak of the devil, there you have them," a voice says, breaking the silence.

"Haha, hello Kylie—or should I say Draculaura?" Xóchitl says giving the girl a hug.

"Xóchitl, what the fuck took you so long to get here?" she says, hugging Momona and then Dior.

"Dior, let me guess—Victoria's Secret model?"

"Ugh, what gave it away? The blowout?" She said causing them both to giggle.

"And Momo, angel, did it hurt when you came falling from the sky?"

How ironic, I see what she did there with the "speak of the devil" and the "did it hurt when you fell from the sky," since Xóchitl is dressed as a devil and Momona as an angel.

Kylie turns her head to me, making my heart flutter. I nervously start fiddling with my zipper as she looks me up and down, then says, "Nice outfit, Clawdeen."

"T-Thanks, you have a nice outfit too," I say back, noticing how we kind of match. That's kind of cute.

"How come I've never seen you around before?" she asks.

"Not really a party girl." I answer her.

"We always take her with us, but she ends up in a quiet corner or outside," Momona adds.

"Too bad. When you're ready for a real party, come find—" Kylie starts but is cut off by Dior.

"She's a virgin, Kylie, don't even think about it."

Kylie chokes on her drink, and my mouth falls open as I try to process what Dior just said. I'm not ashamed of being a virgin or anything, but I've known this girl for, what, three seconds? I look at Kylie, feeling my face heat up, as Kylie laughs so hard that she spills her drink on the floor.

"Noted," she says to Dior, then shifts her gaze to me. "Don't be ashamed, it's early, and the night is still young. Anything can happen on Halloween."

That last sentence sends shivers down my spine, and my eyes widen. Did she actually just say that?

"I'm serious, Kylie, don't make her your victim." Dior warns Kylie with a serious, almost threatening look.

Victim. Interesting choice of words.

Kylie's eyes widen, and she clears her throat awkwardly before saying, "Peder, baby, could you maybe get me a new drink?"

Baby—so Kylie has a boyfriend. Got it. What would "victim" mean, then? I'm pulled out of my thoughts by Peder. "You want something to drink too, shy girl?"

"Me? Oh, um, no thank you."

We watch him walk away, and when he's finally far enough to not hear us, Kylie opens her mouth to say something, but Dior is faster. "Oh. My. Gosh. Peder? Fucking Peder Lindell is your victim of the night?"

There's that word again. I guess he's not her boyfriend, then.

Kylie rolls her eyes dramatically. "Okay, seriously, y'all have to stop calling people my victims, I swear."

Dior tilts her head, clearly still focused on the "victim of the night" topic. "Stop avoiding the question, Kylie."

"You know what? I think I better go find Peder," Kylie says, laughing while slowly walking away and shooting me a quick, flirty wink before disappearing into the crowd.

Dior abruptly turns around, shaking her head. "That girl is something else." She grabs my hand, turns me around, and puts her arm around my shoulder. "Now let's get you on the dancefloor."