Man, You Weigh A Freaking Ton. What

Tell Me Again What We're Doing Here," I Said, Running A Continuous Scan Of Our Surroundings. Fang Popped Some Cracker Jack Into His Mouth. "we're Here To Watch Manly Men Do Manly Things." I Followed Fang's Line Of Sight: He Was Watching The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, Who Were Not Doing Manly Things, By Any Stretch Of The Imagination.

Tears Were Dripping Onto My Dress, But I Wasn't Making Any Sound. There Was No Sound To Express Thid Kind Of Pain. I Didn't Want To Move, Didn't Want To Do Anything. Fang Was Not Waiting For Me Out In The Living Room. Tomorrow Morning, When I Woke Up, Fang Would Still Be Gone.

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.

I'm Magnetic," She Whispered, Half Awed And Half Horrified. "i Hope You Don't Start Sticking To Fridges And Stuff," I Said In Disbelief. Fang Dropped Down Next To Me, And The Gasman Joined Us, Squishing In Next To Nudge. "what's Going On?" Fang Asked. "i'm Magnet Girl!" Nudge Said, Already Coming To Terms With Her New Skill.

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.