You take a lot of chances with your feelings/No one really knows what you feel/
And fiction is the only way you're dealing/You turn your pretty head if it gets real.

Italian Sidewalk or Champagne? Lola was happy to say that it really wasn’t that difficult of a decision, though she was more of a brandy girl to begin with, the Italian Sidewalk just didn’t have enough in it to satisfy her need.

Besides, it wasn’t like any of the adults cared, as long as she stayed away from her own and Paris and Jess she was fine, most forgot the age of everyone else’s children (not to mention, in some cases, the age of their own).

“Somebody got laid the other night,” Aurora stood next to her, grabbing her own glass.

Lola managed to get at least one sip in before shaking her head a ‘no’.

“Huh,” Aurora tapped her fingernail against the glass stem. “Okay. Somebody got foreplayed the other night.”

She sipped once more before answering. “Closer to the truth.”

“Ah, isn’t that sweet. Lola’s going backwards,” Aurora said. “Does this mean half your life is over?”

“Working the first half into being promiscuous and then heading back towards virginity near the end?” Aurora nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s something like that.”

“Is it better that way?”

Lola thought about it for a moment before slowly nodding. “Yes, actually, it sort of is.”

“So who’s being the Joseph to this Virgin Mary quest?”

Lola shrugged and took a sip larger than she probably should have.

“You’re avoiding,” Aurora said with a sigh. “I’ll change the subject, then.”

She threw her longtime friend a doubtful look. “No you won’t.”

Aurora just smiled, “So you and Dallie didn’t end the last Franklin meeting with a bang, like you usually do. The seniors were very disappointed in not seeing one last performance.”

“Sorry, tickets were nonrefundable.”

“But Lo, you didn’t even have one disagreement. You actually pretended to pay attention. Do you know what damage your nails could have suffered from the inattention at the meeting? Your body is on its own schedule.”

Lola looked at her oddly, “How many of those have you had?” She gestured to the glass. “Or what on earth are you taking with it?”

“Definite hedging. Will note.”

“Will note: best friend has gone completely mad.”

Aurora just grinned, “Finish up, doll. I’m going to make the rounds.”

“Lovely,” was all Lola said before working on finishing up her drink.

Well this was it, the end of the two-week ‘ordeal’. Tonight, when it all ended, he’d be packing up and heading home to his own house, room and bed. It’d be odd, to say the least. He was rather becoming use to Lola and her oddities.

“Well, you don’t any worse for the wear,” Jess Mariano commented.

“I’m a little scared at all the implications I’ve been getting that you would all come home to find my mutilated body hidden in Lola’s closet,” Dallie replied to his father.

“No, not the closet. Lola’s far too clever for something so obvious,” Jess pointed out. “But she’s a lit girl, so maybe we’d find you underneath the floor boards.”

“Inside the walls,” Lola entered the conversation, entering from the left. “Wrong Poe story there, Uncle Jess.”

“Must have gotten rusty these past two weeks,” Jess said before gesturing at the drink in her hands. “A new sort of French soda there, Lo?”

Her expression was one of complete innocence, “Whatever else could it be?”

He smirked, “Just be careful. Overindulging those French sodas can lead to hell in the morning.”

Lola raised her glass to him, “Sound advice. But unnecessary. I’m stealing away your son.”

“I should hope not for the wall purposes,” Jess told her.

“No my plans are more nefarious than that,” She set the glass down on the table beside her.

“As long as he’s alive in the morning.”

"I'm so glad I exist so that people can pretend I don't" Dallie commented out loud.

“We’re talking about you,” Lola pointed out, grabbing his hand. “I don’t know what more you could possibly want.”

“Maybe to know why I’m being stolen away?” He suggested.

She rolled her eyes, “To dance of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated dumbly. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to imbibe in French soda.”

“It’s a lovely idea, now are you coming or not?”

“Oh, I have an choice?” Dallie asked as he allowed her to lead him on the dance floor.

“Be nice and I’ll let you lead,” she told him as they took position.

“You’ll let me lead anyway.”

Her lower lip went into its automatic pout. “I’m getting to hate you.”

He sighed, “And I let myself get stolen away for this?”

Lola shook her head. “No. I didn’t mean it, of course.”

“What?” Dallie asked, becoming slightly confused as was wont with any conversation with Lola.

“Hating you. I don’t. Not really.” Tipsy babbling, thus making her even less understandable He wondered how much she had drunk before coming over to him and his father.

“Uh-huh,” was the only reply that he could really think to say.

“It’s just that,” she lowered her voice to a near whisper. “When I don’t hate you Dallie, I think I just might love you.”

Dallie missed a step, and then another one.

Okay, she was definitely drunker than he originally believed.