Sometimes moving on takes effort. Sometimes moving on is harder than it looks.

What’s goin’ on?” I ask as I take a seat. “Obviously not this.” He tosses me my shirt from last night. “I found it on the floor of the den. It’s obvious there was some hanky-panky going on.” Okay, so he knows we fooled around. But at least he didn’t find Kiara’s bra on top of my shirt. “Yeah . . . things kinda got a little heated after you and Mrs. W. left the den last night,” I tell him.

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.

(Kiara sees Carlos' bleeding face)"Carlos! Oh my God, what happened?" "You still recognize me with a busted-up face. That's a good sign, right?

That’s not the only reason I’m stayin’, chica. I can’t leave you any more than I could walk out that door right now while my leg is busted up. I was just thinkin’ . . . should we tell your parents now or later?” “Tell them what?” I ask, eyes wide. He kisses me softly, then says proudly, “That we’re in a serious, monogamous, committed relationship.” “We are?” “Sí. And when I get out of here, I’m gonna fix the door to your car.

I want to know how to make this girl laugh. I want to know what makes her cry. I want to know what it feels like to have her look at me as if I’m her knight in shinning armor.

Julian, sometimes girls are like junk food. They look good, and they sure taste good… but you know they're not healthy for you and cause cavities so it's better to just leave 'em alone. Got me?