Boredom, boredom, boredom.

Heat, heat, heat.

Those were the two things that occupied the almost always-idle mind of a certain girl apparently different, perhaps a little normal that some would call insane while others would flatly classify as eccentric.

Up high from her eighteen years of life and 176 centimeters of height, Lola Vegas behaved and was treated like the owner of the world. And perhaps she was, after all, her family annually appeared on the Top Ten Richest People list – not to mention the Top Ten Most Sophisticated, Top Ten Most Beautiful and a whole other series of Top Ten lists – thanks to the well succeeded and millionaire business they owned. Her grandparents were the owners of one of the world's most luxurious hotel chains. The mother made a career in the juridical world, becoming a renowned lawyer and aspiring political jobs. The uncle, a gay man, became a famous designer, whose creations didn't cost prices with less than three or four digits. And the father… well, the father didn't matter – it wasn't like he was actually interested in Lola.

Soft hands with long, thin fingers and carefully manicured nails – in a way that the bright pink French style was absolutely perfect – grabbed the cell phone of the most modern model (which was surely going to be replaced on the following week when another one showed up) that played the week's ringtone: Bowling For Soup's Girl All The Bad Guys Want. A pair of hazel brown eyes scanned the small screen illuminated by the orange color, observing the name and number of who was calling: Max, 555-8989.

Max was the short way that everyone – or at least those who had permission – called Maxime Smith, a platinum blonde with greenish eyes, almost as rich as Lola and equally narcissistic. She was Lola's best friend, probably the only real one, for being as crazy as the other girl.

"Max, it's 11:30 in the fucking morning. I went to sleep five hours ago, I have a hangover and the two ecstasies I had at Moonblade started to get me depressed."

"Lola, I said that only one ecstasy was enough, but did you hear me? No! And that's what you get for not listening to your wisest friend," the blonde replied on the other side of the line with an equally sleepy tune of voice.

On the previous night Lola and Maxime had gone to the city's most expensive and popular club. It wasn't rare to see the two at Moonblade, they were VIP's there – they got in when they wanted, they drank as much as they could and everything for free. Actually, the only things for which they had to pay were the drugs they bought from a guy named Skip Joe: ecstasy, cocaine, weed and whatever else was cool.

"Whatever. Why did you call me?"

"Because I have news."

"I don't wanna know," Lola said in her groggy and slightly hoarse voice.

Generally she'd be interested in trash talking about whoever it was, because that was what Maxime did best, but it'd be hard to keep a conversation in the state Miss Vegas found herself into.

"I'll tell either way. The place's newest pregnant is Sara Davies."

"Are you sure?" Lola asked, surprised.

"Yeah. My mom was with Mrs. Hamilton half an hour ago at Gucci's new store and they met Sara's mother that let slip the small news. Knowing Mrs. Hamilton everyone will know about that before lunch hour is over."

Maybe that didn't sound so surprising for someone that didn't know the sweet, innocent, kind and polite Sara Davies. She was the epitome of perfection for most people. The fact that she wasn't the virgin that everyone swore she was and being pregnant at 18 would make her plunge from the position of 'sweetheart' to society's 'black sheep' in a small fraction of time.

"And why should I care?" questioned Lola.

Maybe it was the hangover, but the red-haired wasn't so happy with the discovery of Sara's true character and stupidity as she would've been if Maxime had told her that before they went to a party.

"Because the father is he!" Maxime said fixing the straight blonde locks, as she looked herself on the rearview mirror of her red Audi TT. The big sunglasses she wore to hide the black eyes covered most of her freckled and artificially tanned face.

He. With only that word Lola seemed to completely wake up and be attentive to her friend's words. She immediately knew whom they were talking about, even though both of them never mentioned his name in the rare times they talked about him.

He was Pietro Ambrust, an athletic 21-year-old brunette, administration student, occasional model and full time daddy's boy, whose passions were cars, sports and Von Dutch trucker hats. He also was Lola's ex-boyfriend and the only that had made the vixen think of something more. Until he decided to take off to new adventures. Without her.

Truth be told, Lola Vegas wasn't one to bother being dumped, she knew she'd always find something better, but after those seven months with Pietro, she doubted she'd find anything more prefect.

"Sara had sex with him?"

"And got pregnant in the three months they've been going out!"

"I didn't know…"

"You didn't hear about the jealousy attack she had at his parents' anniversary dinner last weekend?"

"I didn't go to that dinner!" Lola replied remembering why she hadn't gone.

On the night before the celebration Pietro invited her to go to a party where the two got completely high until early hours of the morning before heading to his apartment and spending the rest of the day in bed – not necessarily sleeping. The two had settled to meet after the dinner, but he never showed up.

It was obvious why Pietro hadn't come back after the dinner. Sara surely should've been mad with his delay and should've told him about the pregnancy. Lola knew all the stories, qualities and flaws of Pietro; he certainly would've told her about the baby if he knew it. They had even talked about getting back together.

In an impulse, Lola said bye to Maxime and dialed the combination of numbers that was Pietro's phone: 555-0104. On the first clique she felt totally sure about what she was doing. On the second clique she still didn't really know what she was gonna say. On the third one she almost gave up, but that wasn't like her – not to mention that it was on that moment that they answered the call.

"Hello?" said not the sensual and thick voice of the young Ambrust, but the high-pitched and singing voice that she knew belonged to Sara Davies. "Lola?" she asked when she heard no answer. For a fraction of second, the red-haired wondered how Sara knew it was her calling, but then it occured to her that she had checked the caller id.

"Sara! Huh... can... I talk to Pietro?"

"About what?" the other one asked, even thought that wasn't the time for jealousy attacks.

"It's personal to tell the truth."

"Do you already know I'm pregnant?"

"Ah... yes. Congrats. Pietro must've been very... surprised."

"Difnetely. He was so good to me..."

"Thinking about it, I'll call some other time..." Lola interrupted her.

"Lola, he's not the father!" Sara suddenly said with that avoiding that the other one hung up the phone.

"What?"

"He only said he was!"

"But, your mother..." she started, but didn't finish it.

"Said he's the father, right?"

"She said to Maxime's mother and to Mrs. Hamilton and to whoever wanted to hear or not!" Lola agreed and paused. "But... who's the father then?"

"Pietro's brother. I knew Marco was married when we got involved, but things got out of control, so Pietro and I pretended to be together to fool the others while Marco divorced. Pietro didn't tell you because his brother made him swear to secrecy."

Thrity-year-old Marco Ambrust was the opposite of his younger brother: blonde with honey eyes, responsible and trustful. He'd gotten married three years before, more for convinience than anything else, but, still, the involvement with the young Davies would be ill-sighted when revealed – it'd be the favorite subject for at least an entire week!

"This makes no sense! Why are you telling me everything? I thought you didn't like me," Lola confessed.

"We're not best friends or friends at all, but I know Pietro likes you and I just wanna see him happy."

"He likes me?" the words escaped from Lola's pink lips before she had a chance to contain them.

"And how he does! He would've never broken up with you if not for the whole confusion between Marco and I. At his parents' dinner I wasn't jealous of Pietro, because I knew he was with you; I just argued with him to keep the act. He might not admit it, but he loves you," Sara stated as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

Lola felt her lips curve into a content and satisfied smile; a smile like she hadn't smiled in ages. She heard Sara say goodbye as if it were something distant and a brief silence before another person spoke.

"Hi, Loly. How are you?" Pietro softly asked.

And it was on that moment that everything seemed to get back to be as perfect as it had been three months before. She knew it was only a matter of time before she had Pietro Ambrust, the man she loved almost as much as she loved herself, back at her side.

"Better now."