Free The Fall of Five (I Am Number Four) by Lore Pittacus

full-on guffaw. “I think it looks sort of good,” I manage.
    “Have I mentioned that I’m a vegetarian?” Eight asks, staring at me with mock revulsion. “But if it’s thefrightening mess of a Chicago-style hot dog you desire, then so it shall be. I’ve never thanked you properly.”
    Eight starts towards the vendor, but I grab him by the arm and drag him back. He grins at me.
    “Change your mind?”
    “What do you mean, you never thanked me properly?” I ask. “Thanked me for what?”
    “For saving my life in New Mexico. You broke the prophecy, Marina. Setrákus Ra put his sword right through me and you—you brought me back to life.”
    I can’t help blushing and looking down at my feet. “It was nothing.”
    “It was literally everything to me.”
    I look up, putting on my best version of Eight’s teasing smile. “In that case, I think I deserve more than a gross hot dog.”
    Eight clasps his hands across his chest like I’ve wounded him. “You’re right! I’m a fool to think my life could be traded for a hot dog.” He grabs my hand and gets down on one knee, pressing his forehead to the back of my hand. “My savior, what can I ever do to repay you?”
    I’m embarrassed, but can’t help laughing. I shoot apologetic looks to the people around us, most of them staring at Eight’s display with curious smiles. We must look like just two normal teenagers to them, goofing around and flirting.
    I pull Eight back to his feet and, still holding his hand,continue on down the lakefront. The sun winks across the surface of the lake. It’s not quite the sea I was named for, but it’s beautiful all the same.
    “You can promise me more days like these,” I tell Eight.
    He squeezes my hand tightly. “Consider it done.”
    Eight and I finally come back to the penthouse, our bellies full of greasy Chicago pizza. We’ve still got hours before Four and Six arrive in Arkansas, and Ella never sent up any telepathic alarm. Everything is just as we left it.
    Except Nine is awake and standing so close to the elevator door that we almost crash into him when we enter.
    Nine doesn’t move when we come in, he just stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and glares at us. “Where have you two been?”
    “Geez,” says Eight, inching around Nine’s bulk. “How long have you been standing here waiting for us? Aren’t your feet tired?”
    “We just went out for a bit,” I explain, feeling more than a little timid around Nine. It reminds me of getting caught sneaking back into the orphanage after curfew, and I briefly picture Nine trying to take a ruler to my knuckles. “Is everything all right?”
    “Everything’s fine,” snaps Nine, focusing more on Eight than me. “You can’t just go gallivanting around the city without telling me.”
    “Why not?” counters Eight.
    “Because it’s bullshit,” growls Nine. I can see his mind working, like he’s trying to think of something else to say. “It’s irresponsible and careless. It’s stupid.”
    “It was a couple hours,” complains Eight, rolling his eyes. “Spare me the Cêpan lecture.”
    It is kind of funny to see Nine so enraged about us acting out of line, especially considering the stories I’ve heard Four tell about their time together on the road. Strangely, it’s also endearing. He puts on this big show of being this tough-as-nails loose cannon, but when he woke up to find us gone, he was actually concerned about us.
    I touch Nine on the arm, trying to defuse the situation. “I’m sorry we worried you.”
    “Whatever, I wasn’t worried,” Nine snarls, jerking his arm away from me and rounding on Eight again. “You think that was a lecture? Maybe I should show you the kind of lectures I used to get, back when I was a cocky little dumbass.”
    Eight wiggles his fingers at Nine, just egging him on further. Most of the time his joking around is charming, but this is one of those times when I wish he’d just cut it out. Nine steps