Yes," I said. "My name is seven-five-nine-nine-three-nine-ex-dash-one. Junior.

You can call me Agent Mickelson,' he told me with a smile. 'What about you? Is Max short for something? Maxine?' 'No, Dean. It's just Max.

This is my brain: O This is my brain after making out with Fang: * It's very sad.

You have a memory chip that small implanted in you,” he verified. I nodded, guessing this was somewhat worse than having cooties.

Life is hard, and a lot of people come home tired from work. If they're gonna spend half an hour reading, they want some entertainment and a sense of achievement. So that's what I give them. That's all I'm trying to do. Is that really so wrong?

Fang’s hand gently smoothed my hair off my neck. My breath froze in my chest, and every sense seemed hyperalert. His hand stroked my hair again, so softly, and then trailed across my neck and shoulder and down my back, making me shiver. I looked up. “What the heck are you doing?” “Helping you change your mind,” he whispered, and then he leaned over, tilted my chin up, and kissed me.

Ari smiled. The sun was shining, the weather was great, he was eating ice cream, and all his dreams were about to come true.