Sunset Boulevard by Zoey Dean

guess."
    Myla's head spun. Was he talking about Jacob, or about them? Did he mean he'd changed, and
    he'd never love her again? Or did it mean she had to change to win him back?
    The director paced in front of them, megaphone pressed to his mouth. "We're going to start
    now, people," he boomed. "Everyone, look like you're enjoying yourself and in awe of your
    quarterback." He gestured to Jake, who was swigging from a bottle of Gatorade on the
    sidelines. The crowd giggled, but only slightly. Jake's success was getting to them, Myla
    thought. "Couples, cuddle. No one's asking you to get married."
    Ash did as he was told, his arm circling Myla's shoulder stiffly. The crowd was dead silent
    now, waiting for further orders. The deafening quiet, and Ash's tenseness, made Myla feel like
    she was trapped under plastic.
    "Um, we're not laying Tommy Archer to rest," the director shouted. "Talk, chatter, chant, 'Go,
    Tommy!'"
    Myla figured that was as good a command as any for her to talk to Ash. "So, my parents have
    really missed you coming by for dinner." It was true. Lailah had sadly cleared the place setting
    next to Myla's yesterday for the third time that week. Myla missed him too.
    "Oh," Ash said, a slightly pained expression on his face. "It would be weird for me to keep
    mooching off you guys, with, you know, everything."
    "It's not mooching," Myla giggled, loosening up a little at Ash's odd, constipated look. "I bet
    you've been living on Pop-Tarts and takeout. You're always welcome. Lucy will make your
    favorite."
    "Beef Wellington?" Ash's mouth curved up in a small grin. Myla felt hopeful. Maybe the way
    to a man's heart was through his stomach. She'd always believed that your hair, clothing, and
    attitude meant much more than a home-cooked meal. But at this point, she wouldn't have been
    surprised to find she'd had it wrong all along.
    A few hours later, they'd watched the cheerleaders pyramid up and stunt-fall down a billion
    times. Now they were acting as the backdrop as the production crew worked to get several
    takes of Jake's big Hail Mary pass. Myla was still nestled in Ash's grip, like they were here on
    a date. Neither of them had brought up the Lewis fiasco. It was too awkward a topic for the
    situation. And Ash had seemed proud of her when Myla told him about her truce with Jojo.
    She made a point not to bore him with details of Jojo's makeover.
    In front of them, Billie, Talia, and Fortune were discussing Amelie Adams, who was standing
    in the shadows of the bleachers in a white asymmetrical minidress with a ridiculous frilly halo
    perched on her red curls. Amelie was scolding Kady Parker, who--for the scene--was
    supposed to have greased the grass where the cheerleaders formed their ill-fated pyramid.
    Billie surveyed the white-blond ends of her long tresses, her cornflower blue eyes crossing
    atop her nose--a perfect copy of Ashley Tisdale's new one. By the same doctor. "Amelie looks
    so good with red hair. Maybe I should go red too." She exaggeratedly leaned across Fortune's
    lap. Fortune squirmed, folding her arms over her narrow rib cage. She was sensitive about
    having the widest hips of the group and tried to bring attention to her ample chest. Billie batted
    her thickly mascaraed eyelashes at Grant.
    "I was going to do that when my hair grows out," Talia said, adjusting a strand of her awkward
    bob. "My hair's so much nicer when it's long," she added, her mouth just inches from Grant's
    ear.
    "Yeah, I can't believe I've been a boring blond for so long," Fortune muttered, pouting up at
    Grant, who looked as uncomfortable as a window shopper being swarmed by a team of
    salesmen. "What color hair do you think looks best on a girl, Grant?" Myla rolled her eyes,
    whispering to Ash, "Red hair, right. Maybe I should dye mine."
    Ash leaned toward her, seeming to look at each individual strand of her hair protectively, his
    eyes falling on the inch-long chunk of hair at the back of her neck. In a furor, Myla