All the Little Things.

I read over what I wrote to Leo and he laughed. Not that fake laugh that your ex uses to laugh at your jokes or the really tried laugh your mom and dad use to tell you to shut up—it was a genuine laugh, one where the corners of his lips curl to his ears and his eyes crinkle, then his mouth opens and that true, joyful sound comes out. He says that what I write is so true, but why wouldn't it be? Anyways.



Leo and I see each other every day. We meet wherever and whenever- midnight rendezvous at Dine n' Dash, morning hikes up Morrison Peak, afternoon bike rides and strolls in the park. It's only then that I begin to realise what my mom meant. About the little things that added up to make my day, I mean. I only started noticing them after hanging around with Leo, the first little bit of happiness I haven't encountered in, well, a while.

But maybe I should backtrack. Just a little.



"So," I say, greeting Leo right in front of his apartment building. What're we doing?" I say, a hand on my hip as I cock it. I'm decked out in an ancient floral print button up my mom got me when I was fifteen and vintage overalls Marie got me from Trunks, the thrift store downtown. "And why exactly am I supposed to be dressed like this?" Leo only grins, an expression I've grown familiar with over the last twenty four hours.

"You'll see," are the only two words he says. Coyly, at that. Cheeky little bastard. As he leads me into his apartment, I marvel at the whiteness of it. The lobby is literally all white—the floors and desks are white marble, the walls painted blindingly white, the hibiscus sitting on the counter white, as well. The only splash of colour there seems to be is the green of the plant leaves and the gold elevators.

Leo pushes the up button, and as we wait for the elevator to come, a thought strikes me right over the head.

"Elevator speech," I say. Leo chuckles.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"When we get in the elevator, I want you to make a new one up." the right corner of his lips lift, and I know I've said something right. He shrugs.

"All right, challenge accepted." The elevator dings and the door opens, and as we walk in, I can see Leo smirking.

"You sure you ready for this?" I grin right back at him. "Oh yeah,"

The elevator doors shut and he starts his speech.

"Hi, my name is Leo Thornwood, but my fans know me as Leo Star. I work as a male stripper and I've tested the waters in the art of being a porn star, but that just wasn't me. I've had thirteen girlfriends in the course of three weeks, but I prefer dick. My dream girl is Shakira because she can work them hips!" Leo cocks his hip and flutters his lashes, making me laugh like a maniac because he looks so ridiculous.

The elevator dings, and I kiss my fingertips and shake them triumphantly at Leo. "Brilliant!" I say, and we just laugh and laugh. Once we're finally done, I find myself wiping away at stray tears and I look around.

"This is not an apartment..." I say, looking at the open space around me. It's as if Leo has the whole floor to himself because it's like one big studio.

"Well, I came here because I have an art scholarship at Columbia, all four years. I was looking for an apartment complex that had a lot of open space for me so it could double as a loft of some sorts and a studio, so here I am." My eyebrows rise in admiration. Full ride scholarship at Columbia? Impressive.

"Nice," I comment. "But I still don't see how me being here fits in with all of this." Leo stares at me as if I've just said the stupidest thing in the world.

"You're kidding, right?" he asks, now his turn to raise his eyebrows. "We're painting the rooms. Duh."

"Oh. Well, let's get started!" I say in hopes of covering up my stupidity.

We start with his studio, which takes up about half the floor space. Leo chose an off-white colour for the walls, and the floorboards are this nice, darkly coloured wood, shaded marmalade or something of the sort. That takes about two hours, so it's already ten by the time we start on the next room, which is the kitchen.

The kitchen counter is exactly like the desk in the lobby-white marble, so to add color, Leo let me pick this creamy, orange shade that's like Orange Dream Machine from Jamba Juice, except way lighter. Leo's two bathrooms are painted the same off-white as his studio before we head on to the guest bedroom, which we end up agreeing on a white-blue shade. Leo's bedroom is last, and the colour Leo picks for it startles me- the exact same shade of his left eye, the bright green colour I'm still amazed by. And Leo has the shade down to a science. They're identical, really.

Leo catches me staring and says, "I mixed the shade myself. Pretty awesome, isn't it?"

My jaw is still dropped. "How did you get it so exact? I'm dying to know."

"Well, it did take a lot of staring deeply into the reflection of my eyes romantically," he says drily, making me snort.

"Nice one, you sure are modest, eh?" Leo laughs along with me when I notice the lone dimple in his left cheek and the two that rest slightly below his lips. Mom said I should keep track of the little things somehow, and I found myself reaching a huge dilemma. Did Leo's dimples count as one little thing or three?