And you… do you know what you are?” “Stupid?” “Beautiful,” he says, his face turning red.

You're right . . . you can't go back. No matter how much you want to, you never can

I’m always the one who doesn’t have a date, the one guys walk up to and say, “So, is your friend, you know, with someone?” and I may not be the only girl without someone, but it feels like it sometimes. A lot of the time.

Imagine a guy. He’s a little taller than you, with perfect skin, skin that just screams “touch me!” and dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes and he looks so sweet and he is sweet. And then have him blush a little.

I don’t know, shifted a little or something, smoothed down–people would think of me the way they think of Dave, and everything would always be perfect. I would be perfect.

She looked at me for real and saw I was serious. She saw I knew she was for me like you know that tomorrow morning the sun will rise.

I wants us to be real. I want to be just you and me. - Ryan