She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. (ang.)
So do you believe in second chances? I bite my lip. Second, third, fourth. Whatever it takes. However long it takes. If the person is right, he adds. If the person is... Lola? This time, he holds my gaze. Only if the other person is Cricket.