a million tiny little things

"Okay, how's this one?"

Fallon held out her hand and accepted the candle Harry found in the house. After they finished their watermelon Jack-o'-lanterns, Fallon reminded Harry they needed candles inside. Because of the small size of the melons, it was difficult to find a candle that would fit and he had to hunt through random drawers and cupboards, hoping to find something suitable.

Fallon let out a loud laugh as she read the label on the scented candle. "Fresh Linen?" she asked, giggling as she reached for the barbecue lighter. She didn't care what the candle smelled like. Their evening had been quirky and silly; a laundry-scented watermelon was par for the course.

Harry shrugged. "It's all I have!" he exclaimed, echoing Fallon's laughter. He watched as she carefully dropped the candle into the melon. "I'd say it's perfect," he determined, rubbing his knuckles along Fallon's hair.

Fallon smiled up at Harry. "It is," she assured him, speaking on more than just the candles. She had enjoyed the entire day with him. Telling Harry her family secret had been a relief, and she was even more relieved he hadn't a care in the world about it. She felt silly for worrying so much, but she hadn't expected such a blaisé reaction. Again, she had a hard time believing Harry when he insisted he was not perfect.

"Smells like fruity laundry," Harry remarked, sitting on patio sofa next to Fallon. He kicked his feet up on the table, careful to not knock over the lit watermelons, and slung his arm across Fallon's shoulders. "I like it," he said, pressing a kiss against her temple. "Your Jack-o'-lantern idea was a bit weird, I reckon, but I'm not complaining."

"Better not be," Fallon teased back. She rested her head against Harry's shoulder and let out a contented sigh as she watched the flames dance inside the watermelon. "This is a good day," she decided, but every day with Harry was shaping up to be a good day.

"It is," Harry agreed. "Reckon my favourite part was seeing you in a swimsuit," he teased, pinching her shoulder. He wouldn't tell her, but he might not have been kidding.

Fallon dropped her head as she blushed. "Oh, shush," she sighed. She thought he might not be joking, but she also suspected he'd enjoyed the entire day, just as she had.

Harry kissed the top of her head. "You know I'm kidding," he assured her. Perhaps he was. Seeing her in a wet swimsuit had been incredible, but seeing her open up to him and share stories and secrets had been even more incredible. Or at least just as incredible.

"Mm-hmm..." Fallon hummed good-naturedly. His comments didn't bother her. If he had only been after her to see her in a swimsuit, he would have left weeks ago. "It's okay. My favourite part was seeing you in a swimsuit, too," she added with a smirk. "Just wish it'd been a Speedo."

Harry guffawed. "Next time," he promised. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a bright red flicker across the city caught his attention. "Hey, look," he said to Fallon, bumping his hip against hers and pointing. "What is that, fireworks?"

Fallon followed his gaze. The far-away flicker was almost impossible to see against the bright city lights, but as a few more colourful pops followed behind the first one, it became easier to determine the flashes were fireworks. "Somebody couldn't wait a couple more days until the Fourth?"

"Guess not," Harry remarked. "I – oh!" His sudden exclamation caused Fallon to jump. "I just remembered! What are you doing on the Fourth?"

Fallon shrugged. Jasmine's condo complex had a pool, and Fallon usually found herself submerged in the chlorinated waters, but it wasn't an official plan. She would rather find herself submerged in Harry's saltwater pool. "Not sure," she answered. "Why, what did you forget?"

"I got an invitation to this Fourth of July party," Harry told her. "Out in Malibu... And, uhm... you should come with me..." He trailed off, sounding hesitant. It wasn't a simple barbecue at a friend's house. It was a star-studded event at Nobu. Those types of parties were not up Fallon's alley, but he hoped she would find enough comfort with him to come along.

"Oh, Malibu?" asked Fallon. Her nose crinkled with disdain. The luxurious seaside city was too pretentious for her liking. Despite her own B-or-C-list ranking, it was impossible to picture herself fitting in with any guests at a Malibu beach party.

"Yeah," answered Harry. He didn't see Fallon's nose wrinkle, but he heard the contempt in her voice. "It'd be fun. It's at Nobu, and everyone is to wear all white..." He tickled her shoulder again, hoping he his charm would convince her to join him.

"Nobu?" Fallon's nose wrinkled further. She let out a sigh which sounded more like a scoff. "I went there for lunch once, and it was like... well, it was crazy expensive..." she told Harry, stopping herself from discussing the cost of a meal with Harry. What was expensive to her was likely average for him.

Harry turned to Fallon and offered her an exaggerated pout. "Oh, come on..." he whined. "It'll be fun! And I reckon there'll be fireworks, a lot closer than those..." He nodded again towards the distance. He decided he would push her to join him. "I won't let up, babe... You're coming!" His tone was teasing, but he was not.

Fallon let out a long sigh. "I won't know anyone," she reminded him, keeping her head down as she toyed with the hem of Harry's shirt.

"You'll know me," Harry countered. He took her hand. "And I won't ditch you or find someone else to talk to," he added with a chuckle. "And we won't have to stay long. Just an hour or two. Just... come on..."

Fallon didn't know why they would drive all the way to Malibu – on a holiday weekend, no less – to show up at some restaurant party for only an hour or two. Surely there was a party closer to home. The wheels in Fallon's mind began to turn, and she realised it wasn't just a party. It was a photo opportunity event.

"So, it's... like a... like a.... celebrity party or something? See and be seen?" she asked. "Is that why you have to go? To get your picture taken?" She didn't intend the words to sound rude, but the tone of her voice said otherwise.

Fallon's snarky remark took Harry by surprise. She was often too passive to be snide. "I don't have to go, but I was invited and said yes. It's the polite thing to do," Harry told her, his voice tight. "And I want to go because it would be fun and I want you to come because I kind of like being with you, even when you're being salty."

Fallon sighed. This party did not sound like her idea of a good time, but she also enjoyed being with Harry. She reminded herself that he went to The Shining for her, so she should go to the party for him. Give and take. "Fine," she sighed again. "I guess so..." She glanced up at Harry. "Sorry... I didn't mean it, about the picture thing..." she added, even though she had. Everyone knew the rules of the Hollywood Games, but she wasn't a player. Harry was – a person didn't get to his level of fame without partaking in the games – and going to a star-studded event in Malibu when a simple backyard barbecue would suffice proved it. Fallon didn't understand, but for Harry, she would try.

"It's okay," Harry assured her, squeezing Fallon's knee. He wasn't sure if it was. He didn't want Fallon to think every move he made, every party he attended, was part of an elaborate PR scheme. Of course, some were. It was the name of the game. This one was not one of those times, but he wasn't sure if he could convince Fallon – especially after she saw Kylie Jenner on the guest list. "It'll be fun, I promise," he added, hoping she would believe him.

"Okay," Fallon answered, still unconvinced but she would try. Really, really try. She was an actor. This would just be another gig. No big deal. She sighed. At least her inner voice sounded confident.

**

On the morning of the fourth, Fallon woke up with nervous knots tightening in her stomach. She huffed out a sigh and rolled onto her back. She hated being so insecure. Wouldn't most girls love to go to a fancy party with their handsome boyfriend? It was ridiculous, but she couldn't shake the utter dread she had towards the Malibu party. She didn't want to mingle. She didn't want to socialise. Small talk and phony niceties were draining, and she would rather spend the evening with Harry and only Harry, not strangers.

The entire day leading up to the party was a comedy of errors. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. First, Fallon sliced her leg while shaving, a cut so deep, it bled through three bandages before she even finished drying her hair. She couldn't wear a dress now, with a massive bandage on her calf, but wearing white pants and having her leg leak through was even more horrifying. She reminded herself that at least she hadn't started her period, but some quick math told her it should start any day. With her luck, it would start while wearing white pants in front of strangers.

Fallon's terrible day didn't end with just a cut on her leg. To summarise, she realised she was out of coffee filters, she dropped a makeup palette and broke most of the shades, the iTunes app kept freezing while she was trying to listen to music and she looked disgusting in every top she owned. She was having one of those mornings that looked like it would last all day, and the dread of the party didn't help rid her surly mood.

By the time Harry arrived to pick up Fallon, her bad mood had completely encompassed her. She'd slapped on some makeup, but a Scrunchie still held her hair back, and she hadn't changed out of her lazy day shorts-and-T-shirt. She hoped he would have changed his mind about the party, but he wouldn't.

Fallon grudgingly pulled open the door, her sheepish gaze on the floor as Harry stepped into the house. "Hi..." she greeted, feeling guilty that she wasn't ready to go, even though she did not want to.

"Hey babe," Harry answered, wrapping his arms around Fallon's waist and kissing her. He was early, but he figured Fallon would be ready to go. He hoped she wasn't planning on wearing the old shorts and baggy T-shirt to the party as some kind of protest. There was still a dress code to follow, even if she didn't want to attend.

"You, uhh... you going to be much longer?" he wondered, tugging on the sleeve of her T-shirt. "Reckon I'm into this cute, comfy look, but uhh..." He trailed off, not wanting to insult Fallon's outfit but gently remind her of the dress code. She would be more comfortable if she blended in, not stood out.

Fallon sighed. "Yeah, I... guess I'll get dressed," she answered, huffing the words out in a long, continual breath. She tugged herself out of Harry's grasp before exhaling again and trudging down the hallway.

"Don't sound too excited," Harry called after her. He let out a joking snicker, but it was obvious Fallon had no desire to go to Malibu with him. He wondered if he should tell her it was okay, that they would stay in and watch Netflix or play cards, but he refrained. She told him she would go, so he would make her follow through with her word.

"Mm-hmm..." Fallon hummed over her shoulder as she ducked into the bathroom. She ripped the Scrunchie from her hair and groaned again as her messy locks fell across her shoulders. There was no choice but to carry on with the ponytail. She wrapped a white elastic around her knotted hair as she stared at her pouting face in the mirror. After tugging on a white sundress and changing her bandaid to a clear one, she still couldn't work up a modicum of enthusiasm for the party. She was past the point of being able to talk herself into going and, before she could talk herself out of saying the words racing through her mind, she walked back out to the living room.

"Harry?" she asked, running her hand along the back of the sofa he was sitting on. "I don't... I don't think I feel very well..."

Harry didn't hide his eye roll as he craned his neck to look at Fallon. "You don't think you feel very well?" he questioned, a disbelieving scoff in his voice. "Really?" He watched as Fallon rounded the sofa and stood in front of him, her arms crossed across her chest. "You look fine to me..."

"Well, I'm not fine," Fallon shot back. She couldn't meet Harry's eyes. If she did, he would know she was lying. He might still. "I might throw up.

"You might throw up," Harry said, again echoing the lies Fallon was spouting to him. "Come on. Do you think I'm buying that?"

Fallon's shoulders dropped. "Well, you should," she argued. "I've been feeling bad all day!"

"You've been feeling bad all day because you're working yourself up about a stupid party," Harry corrected. He watched her face, rolling his eyes again as she was careful to avoid his gaze. "You can't tell a lie to save your life, you know that, right?"

Fallon furrowed her brow. "I'm not lying," she lied. "I don't feel good!" Harry was right, however, and her overthinking and dread towards the Malibu party had caused most – all – of her ailments.

Harry shook his head. "You told me you would go," he reminded her. "I told them you were coming. I double-checked with you yesterday. And now, you're just going to back out at the last minute? And think I'm going to buy your story about being sick? C'mon, Fal... I'm not an idiot. You're full of it."

"I am not!" Fallon argued weakly. "Do you want me to go to the party and then throw up everywhere? Then pictures of your barfing girlfriend would be all over the internet!"

Harry sighed. "Babe, if you didn't want to go... why did you say you would go?" he asked her. "Fuck, I'd rather you just say you don't want to do something than lie about being sick. Which you're absolutely not," he added. "I wasn't born fucking yesterday."

"You told me I have to go!" Fallon told him. She sighed again. "But, it doesn't matter, because... I wanted to go, but... now I'm sick, so I can't!"

She was really going to carry on with her sick story. Harry couldn't believe it. "I didn't tell you shit," he reminded her. "You can make up your own mind. I don't tell you to do anything, so don't pin this on me. If you don't want to go, fine. Say it. Don't just try to appease me."

"I don't feel –"

"Fallon!"

Fallon dropped her head. She realised this was her and Harry's first fight, and she didn't like it. His loud voice, his scoffs and disappointment towards her actions devastated her. She pictured the words she wanted to say in her head, the text appearing larger and stronger as the words made their way from her head to the tip of her tongue. Finally, with a sigh, she blurted them out.

"I don't want to go."

Harry stood up, letting out a loud sigh as he threw his hands up in a disbelieving manner. "Should have known you'd bail," he snapped. "You're the one who said you would go. I'm not forcing you to do shit, except be honest with me. You don't want to go, fine. Just fucking stay here. Stay in and watch fucking Netflix by yourself, as usual. Sorry for fucking coming up with something fun for us to do. My bad."

Harry's reaction surprised himself, and judging by the wounded look on Fallon's face, it surprised her too. He knew he should correct his words, apologise and do anything to get the hurt off Fallon's pretty face, but he couldn't hide his anger. Fallon was painting him as a controlling, oppressive boyfriend who forced her to go to parties and do things she didn't want to do, and he would not stand by and let her determine that was the truth.

"I..."

Harry held up his hand. "Save it," he told her. "I don't want to hear anymore of your bullshit lies. I'm going... because I said I would." He shrugged as he turned towards the door. "Who knows, maybe there's a new true crime documentary on Netflix you haven't seen yet. Have fun."

Fallon's breath caught in her throat as Harry spewed out his last comment before stomping out of her home. She didn't expect him to believe her lie, or accept her truth, but she didn't expect him to be so angry with her. A nauseating knot twisted in her stomach, and she almost chased after Harry. She'd suffer through her discomfort, just so he wouldn't be so angry with her anymore. But her legs were like lead as her inner voice pointed out that he likely didn't want her company, anyway.

Listening to her inner voice rather than what she knew about Harry, Fallon flopped onto the couch and covered her face with her hands. It was only a matter of time before her insecurities ruined her relationship with Harry. In her mind, she believed the small argument over the party had ended them, and she hated herself for it.

**

Harry made it to Malibu in record time, his anger assisting in his acceleration. He couldn't believe Fallon thought he would buy her lies, but it did not surprise him she bailed. He expected it, he realised. While he understood she didn't want to go, she said she would. If she didn't want to, she should have been honest from the start. It would have disappointed him, but at least he wouldn't have had to sit through her pathetic "I'm sick" performance. How she had a career in acting, he had no idea.

As he handed his keys to the waiting valet, Harry reminded himself to not let his disagreement with Fallon ruin his evening. He couldn't have a scowl on his face as he entered the restaurant – while it was a private party, there was always someone with a camera around.

Harry stepped onto the crowded patio, a sea of white-dressed attendees sharing drinks and laughs. He recognised a few faces, but many were strangers to him. He would have to remember to inform Fallon that it wasn't just hoards of celebrities filling the restaurant and she would have been fine at the party.

With a sigh, he pushed the thought of his girlfriend from his mind. He would not end things with Fallon over a silly fight, but he also would not let thoughts of her encompass his mind and ruin his evening. They would talk the next day, but for now, he turned his phone off.

**

"Just call him!"

Fallon huffed out a loud sigh. "I can't," she stressed. She repositioned the phone against her ear as she sat up. "He hates me now! He has to! Besides," she added, gnawing on her lower lip, "I texted him and he didn't answer me, so I'm not going to be that annoying loser who calls when he's trying to ignore me!"

Jasmine echoed Fallon's sigh. "Girl... he doesn't hate you," she reminded her young friend with a scoff. "Pretty sure that boy's in love with you, actually. And even if he's not," Jasmine continued, her words overlapping Fallon's incredulous snicker, "he definitely doesn't hate you. He's pissed at you – and I would be, too – but he doesn't hate you! You're being ridiculous," she added in a matter-of-fact tone.

"He's not in love with me," Fallon remarked. Despite her own strong feelings, feelings that made her question the proper adjective to convey her emotions, she didn't believe Harry was in love with her, nor could he be. How could he, when she such an irritating mess?

"He could be," Jasmine argued. "And even if he's not, he likes you a lot. Why else would he get so pissed off at you for backing out of plans? If he didn't care, he wouldn't care. He wanted to bring you out, show you off, spend time with you... And you backed out at the fucking last second. I'd be livid too."

Fallon blew out a breath. "I guess," she lamented. She wasn't sure if she believed Jasmine, but she said better things than Fallon's inner voice. "So, what do I do, then?" she sighed, still unconvinced she could make things better. "Call him," she added with a roll of her eyes, saying the words in unison with Jasmine.

"Yes," Jasmine agreed. "Get off the phone with me, get on the phone with him. Quit fucking around and quit thinking everything you do, everything about you, will push him away. It's not. If he was going to leave, he would have left a long time ago. You're just expecting this to implode and you are becoming your own worst enemy."

"You should be my therapist," Fallon commented dryly.

"Well, you should listen to me," Jasmine countered. "So I'm hanging up now, and you're going to call him. You're going to fix this and you're going to stop beating yourself up about it. Got it?"

Fallon sighed. "Yeah," she answered. As usual, Jasmine was right. "Okay, I'll see what happens," she sighed again, still not convinced. "Thanks, Jazz."

"I'll send you my invoice," Jasmine teased. "Good luck, everything'll be fine, don't worry and keep me posted."

"I will," Fallon promised. She ended the call and scrolled through her contacts, hesitating as she reached Harry's name. She wished she knew how he would react. Was he still angry? Was he fine? She didn't know, and the unknown made her even more timid to call him.

"Grow up," she chastised herself. Before she could second, third, fourth guess herself, she pressed her finger down on his name. She thought she might throw up as she waited for the call to connect, but before she even heard a ring, she heard his voicemail greeting.

Fallon frowned. Was his phone off? Was he in a bad reception area? Or – and she hated the thought – did he see her name and decline the call? She blew out a breath and closed her eyes briefly as she tried the call again. Once again, his recorded voice greeted her, telling the caller to leave a message. She wasn't about to do that, so she ended the call and tossed her phone onto the coffee table.

After a moment of internal struggle, she picked up her phone again and tapped out a text to Jasmine. He's not answering. It's going straight to VM. IDK if he's ignoring me or what *shrug emoji* what should I do?

Why don't you go to Malibu then, came Jasmine's matter-of-fact text after Fallon recited her plight to her friend. She sighed. Perhaps it made sense, but Fallon wasn't sure if she wanted to follow her advice. Harry already wasn't taking her calls, why would she drive all the way to Malibu to continue to have him ignore her? She had to eat crow and apologise to Harry, but it would be so much simpler if he would just answer his phone.

Long way to go just to be ignored.

Fallon could almost hear Jasmine's exasperated sigh through the text conversation. He won't ignore you. Malibu has shit service. He's probably got his phone in his pocket, waiting for your call. Just go!

Maybe. Fallon stared at her reply for what seemed like ages, contemplating following Jasmine's advice. It seemed crazy – the traffic was horrendous on a good day – but it seemed crazier to sit alone with her thoughts. Before she could talk herself out of it, Fallon grabbed her purse and darted out of her apartment. If Harry was going to break up with her, it was better to find out sooner rather than later.

Notes