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looked unremarkable, a huge building the size of an airplane hangar.
    Peter cracked his knuckles as he examined it. Not an easy place to sneak up on—surrounded by desert, with no cover visible in any direction. Only one road in and out, and the nearest highway on-ramp was two miles away.
    He yawned again, then shook his head to try and wake up. The clock on his dashboard read 2:15. Crap, he had to get some sleep. Peter eyed the building again. Tomorrow he’d dig up blueprints for Noa to study; they were probably on file with the Phoenix building management office. Thankfully, municipal networks were notoriously easy to hack into. And they had some time. According to the emails, shipments were still arriving; the next was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Noa wouldn’t be able to get to the area before then anyway.
    Peter powered down his laptop and turned off the satellite uplink. Starting the car, he eased down the driveway. When he reached the street, he peered in both directions: deserted. He drove down the block to his parents’ house and pulled in, already fantasizing about lying down on his pillow.
    Which is why he didn’t notice the black SUV that rolled past a minute later, slowing to watch his Prius enter the garage.

CHAPTER
THREE
    “T hat was easily the worst movie I’ve seen all year,” Amanda announced the next afternoon as they walked out of the theater. “Seriously, the worst.”
    “I thought it was awesome,” Peter replied.
    “You didn’t,” she said, exasperated. “I mean, really? The aliens turned out to be friendly all along?”
    “That’s what I liked about it. Total shocker at the end.”
    “Oh my God, that was terrible,” she groaned. “And even worse was the part where the guy went after them with a paint gun—”
    Peter smiled as he watched her talk. Amanda’s face was animated, the color high in her cheeks as she gestured wildly with her hands. This was sort of a tradition they had after seeing a movie together; he’d enjoy it at face value, while she analyzed it to death. Few films stood up to her scrutiny. But this was what she liked best about going to the movies—tearing them apart afterward.
    And he’d always gotten a kick out of seeing her riled up.
    “Are you even listening?” Amanda demanded.
    “Yeah, of course,” he said defensively. “You’re going on about how the diner scene didn’t make any sense.”
    “Well, it didn’t.” She snorted. “I mean, that part practically belonged in a different movie.”
    “Like I said.” Peter grinned. “Totally awesome.”
    “You’re impossible.” She smacked his arm.
    “You gotta admit, though. Kind of the perfect movie for a snow day.”
    “Yeah,” she said. “You’re right.”
    They smiled at each other. It had been kind of a perfect day all around, Peter thought. The snow had started falling right before dawn, making it impossible for plows to clear the roads in time for school. So he’d gotten his wish, and slept until nearly noon. Then, on a whim, he’d called Amanda to ask if she wanted to check out a matinee. She’d said yes, and to his surprise, even offered to come to him, rather than meeting near Tufts. Stranger still, she’d agreed to go to a cheesy Hollywood blockbuster, instead of insisting on a documentary or something with subtitles.
    Maybe she’d changed, too, he thought as they walked through the parking lot. The snow had already started to melt, leaving the pavement glistening. It was balmy enough to leave his jacket unzipped. The sun shone down brightly, reflecting off the gold in her hair.
    She looked stunning. Peter had a flash of how she used to taste, strawberry and mint mixed together. Her lips were bright red, shiny from the beeswax lip balm she always used. He had a sudden and overwhelming urge to kiss her.
    And then, just as quickly, an image of Noa interceded. They were so different: Amanda with her bright wavy hair and small, compact frame; Noa, dark and willowy. Both