Sunset Boulevard by Zoey Dean Page A

had
    violently snipped out a long strand of her hair that years earlier she'd dyed a punk-rock emerald
    green at Ash's suggestion. Myla felt a tiny, not unpleasant, chill weave its way from her neck
    down her spine.
    "Don't go red," Ash said, his voice thick and mournful. "I love your hair." He knew he'd said
    the wrong thing the second the words were out of his mouth. Saying he loved anything about
    Myla to Myla right now was too fraught with significance, and he knew he needed to keep
    things casual. But he couldn't help it. The idea of Myla changing anything about her beauty was
    sacrilege.
    Myla bit her lip to stop herself from saying something bitchy about how she wasn't at all
    serious. Instead, her lips tilted into their half-smile and--locking her jade eyes on Ash's--she
    said breathlessly, "I won't."
    Her heart thumped in time with the BHH marching band's percussion section. She felt closer to
    Ash in this stupid fake-couple setup than she had in months. She wanted to wriggle her hands
    under his jacket and cling to his warm chest, lay her head down in the gap between his
    shoulder and his head. But this was still too confusing. How long would they have to pretend?
    "Eyes on the field, everyone!" the director shouted through his megaphone. "This is Tommy's
    big moment. Reavis has won the big game! The cheerleaders are out, so it's all on you guys to
    celebrate the big victory. Remember, after this, you can go home!"
    The crowd began to chant, "Tommy! Tommy!" Myla and Ash chanted too. Every so often,
    Ash looked at Myla with a goofy "I can't believe we're doing this" grin.
    On the field, Jake cocked his arm back like a statue of an Olympian god as three members of
    the opposing team--who looked more like freshly released inmates than high school students-hurtled toward him. He released the ball into a perfect Hail Mary pass and the spinning mass of
    pigskin soared down the field like it was missile-guided.
    "Holy crap, Jake," Ash said approvingly. Without thinking, he squeezed Myla closer to him,
    watching in suspense as the ball sailed downfield. As Myla nestled against him, Ash could feel
    how easy it would be to slip back into their old ways. The Golden Couple. Their being together
    was like predestination, which he'd learned about in world religions class. Were they only
    capable of two extremes? Either being a full-blown couple, or out-and-out enemies? He must
    have been nuts to think they could find middle ground.
    The ball landed easily in the receiver's hands, and the crowd went wild. Billie, Talia, and
    Fortune group-hugged a puzzled-looking Grant. Jojo and the band crowd stood up, waving
    their brass wildly. Even Lewis Buford, several rows back, stood and yelled, "Yeah,
    motherfucker!"
    Ash and Myla were on their feet, cheering and hugging like the rest of the crowd. Ash looked
    down at Myla, his eyes gleaming. Their faces were less than a foot apart, and Myla felt the
    tingling sensation she got whenever Ash was about to kiss her. Civility truce be damned. She
    loved Ash. She gave him her most meaningful stare and her most telling half-smile. Kiss me,
    she willed her eyes to say.
    Then he leaned back, held up his palm awkwardly, and said, "High five!"
    What. The. Fuck. High five? Was he twelve ? Myla forced her jaw back into its locked and
    upright position and limply slapped his palm.
    Ash smiled as he stood, and as he pulled away from her, Myla felt like he took all the oxygen
    in the air with him. "Well, I gotta go. See you around?"
    Her voice catching in her throat, Myla nodded. They'd known each other better than anyone
    else for three years. She'd taken care of Ash when he was sick. They'd slept in the same bed.
    And now they were high-fiving?
    TRAIN WRECK CONDUCTOR
    Ash turned onto Moreno and reached for his phone, ready to call Mulberry Pizza for a large
    pepperoni-and-mushroom pie. After his weird encounter with Myla, he wanted nothing more
    than to sit in his room, play the new MGMT EP on repeat,