Enrique jogged over to us with his shirt off. His perfectly sculpted abs glittered with sweatin the sunlight. His medium-length, dark brown hair stuck to his forehead as beads of sweat dripped down the sides of his face. Sure, he was hot. I figured that out a long time ago. Everyone I know thinks he's hot. I kind of got over that, though. I mean, I've spent almost every waking moment with him since the day I was born. "Ready to get going?" Enrique asked me, grabbing his white t-shirt off the grass and pulling it over his head.

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