Oh, God. I'm in big trouble. Because I'm staring. I can't keep my eyes from ogling his chiseled triceps and biceps and every other "eps ' he has. The butterflies in my stomach have just multiplied tenfold as my wandering gaze meets his.

Say something, Amy," Miranda insists. "Something positive. I'm sure it'll make you feel better." "Okay, Miranda. I've got it." I motion the girls to lean in close to hear my words. "At least I'm not dead." How's that for positivity? I have to admit it does make me feel better.

I like that girl more that I can remember likin’ anything in my life. I’m not about to give her up. I’ll start carin’ what people think when I am six feet under.

Girls like you want to cut guy's nuts off and hang 'em from your rearview mirror.

Carlos, are we in complete understanding with each other?” “Yeah,” I say. “As long as it’s not in your house and you don’t know about it, you’re okay with us messin’ around.” “I know you’re joking with me. You are joking with me, aren’t you?” “Maybe.

I'm standing here, holding a half a lemon in my hand. I'm speechless, I'm excited . . . I'm a wreck. Caleb wants to be where I am.

Isn't that why we're put on this earth to begin with, to make it a better place? It's not a religious quest; it's a humanitarian one.