She laughed. She had to. She found it hard to control herself; but honestly speaking: she hardly even tried. She needed to laugh. She wanted to laugh.. right at her; in her face. See her reaction, instil some pain, fear, hurt. It was the first time she felt like being wicked. She knew she needed to. Lolita had born the burden of this friendship for longer than could be considered healthy. She needed to put an end to this… torment, this… torture.
“Yes. I am. As a matter of fact, I’ve never been more certain.”
“Lolita, are you really sure you want to do this? I mean.. think about it, seriously.”
Lolita’s indecisiveness started creeping up again. She hated this feeling. The thought of having to mentally analyse more data than she knew she had the time to. It scared her; disturbed her in a painful kind of way.
A moment of ambivalence- gone just as quickly as it had appeared.
“Yes, I am! And I will not let you talk me into this. You know me well.. well enough. I refuse to be part of this!”
She turned around, and stepped into their car hissing. She was going to get her new LV bag- with or without Lolita. Even if it meant doing both guys at the same time.