Alex's Guide to Moving On (Kind of)

Chapter 1: This Isn't What Moving On Feels Like

 I'm Alex Carter, and this whole thing I'm about to tell you? It's a mess, and I'm the idiot in the middle of it.

Let's get one thing straight: I'm 16, so life's supposed to be complicated, but even I didn't sign up for this level of emotional chaos. You'd think breaking up with someone would be the hard part, right? Like, "Okay, we're done, let's move on." Simple. Except when your ex is Lena Hartley, and she's still, I don't know, basically my best friend... You'll get it soon.

Lena and I? We broke up a few months ago, and I figured, "Cool, time to deal with all the usual breakup stuff." But then there's the fact that Lena—who I still talk to every day—went and did something with Damon Pierce. Some 18-year-old, too-cool, probably-has-his-own-apartment Damon, who I can't even really hate because I don't even know the guy.

Apparently, they got high together at some party, and things happened. That's all she'll tell me. "Stuff happened," she says. I'm not dumb. I know what "stuff" means, but I can't shake this feeling that she's holding something back, like there's more to the story that I'm not getting. And yeah, I'm definitely overthinking this. Or maybe I'm not. Who knows.

The thing is, I don't even know if I'm mad at her or at myself for still caring this much. It's like trying to untangle a knot in your headphones that just keeps getting tighter the more you pull. I can't stay mad at her though.

Then there's Lex Ramos. She's Lena's best friend and hates my guts. I guess she's decided that the best way for Lena to move on is by treating me like I kicked her dog. It's fine. I'm used to it.

My best friend Cal Walker? He's the chillest guy you'll ever meet. The kind of guy who'd say, "You're overthinking it, man," while carrying our whole team in games. And Theo Montgomery? He's the kind of chaos you don't ask for but get anyway. If I ever need a distraction, Theo's there, dragging me into whatever nonsense he's cooked up.

So yeah, that's where we're at. Me, Lena, Damon, whatever the hell happened between them, and the fact that moving on is apparently more complicated than I thought it'd be. And this? This is only the start of things getting weird.

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Alex sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor as the opening riff of "Melrose Diner" by The Wonder Years blared through his headphones. Too real. Way too real right now. He tried to focus on the song, hoping it would drown out the relentless swirl of thoughts in his head, but it wasn't working. The lyrics punched a little too hard, like they were written specifically for his situation. Great. Now even the music was against him.

He glanced at himself in the mirror across the room. Skinny, pale, wearing his usual—a band shirt, this time The Menzingers, paired with black pants and a pair of beat-up Converse that probably should've been retired two years ago. He looked like every 16-year-old trying to pretend they weren't completely wrecked inside.

It had been a week since Lena told him about... Damon. The drip-feed of information had been slow, painfully slow, each new detail hitting him like someone twisting the knife just a little deeper. At first, it seemed innocent enough. Lena mentioned at some party she got high with Damon. No big deal, right? She even assured him, "Nothing happened, Alex. Don't worry." He'd believed her. He always believed her.

But then, later—too much later—she let it slip that Damon kissed her on the forehead. Not exactly a huge betrayal, but it didn't sit right. He had to push for more. What else? Eventually, she told him she'd been sitting on his lap. And then, when he thought that was as bad as it got, she hit him with the worst one of all. "I don't really remember what happened after that," she'd said, her voice soft, almost apologetic. She promised nothing more had happened.