the model

one

It was all happening so fast. Heavy, quick footsteps were echoing from all the people rushing to get from one side of the room to another. The heavy boxes and containers shook the ground as they were constantly being dropped on top of one another. 

The room started getting louder and louder with every voice as more and more people came in. A mix of long and short horns from the cars honking outside were seeping through the door along with every ding indicating the opening of the door.

It's out of my comfort zone to be in busy, hectic situations like this. I flinched at every loud sound, ducked at every motion I saw over my head, and I tripped on the models long legs while they were talking with other models.

"Alex," my best friend, Natalie, snapped her fingers in front of my face. I blinked a couple of times before focusing my attention on her. "Come on, I need your help over here," she took my hand and pulled me through the floor covered with people. 

I looked over at the models sitting in front of their mirrors getting their hair and makeup done, they looked so beautiful but there was something that made me dislike them at the same time. "Nat, can I be a model one day?" I asked her while pouting my lips, knowing the answer she'd give me.

"Oh babe, you don't have the attitude to be one," she stopped to look me in the face with a playful smile. 

"Shut up, I was joking," I pushed her to continue walking. Her shoulders slightly shook as she laughed. 

"I know, you don't like models or the clothes they model in," she tossed her head over her shoulder so I could hear over the raging crowd. 

"I know, I don't even know why I am here," I groaned and stumped my feet acting like a five year old. 

"You're here because you are good with hair, male hair, and at the last minute a fucking stylist dropped. Like who does that shit on the day of a photo shoot," Nat scoffed out of anger. 

I chose not to respond to her little rant because, knowing her, she'd probably go off on me.

"Fuck," I muttered as I tripped on the clothes that were thrown on the floor from the previous models' shoot. "I swear, they are so damn messy. Why can't they clean up after themselves?" I said as I kicked the pile of clothes to the side. 

"Don't. Fucking. Kick the clothes," Natalie scolded me, "they are worth more than your life savings, and if my boss knows you, my friend, ruined these clothes my ass will be on the line." 

I put my hands up in surrender as I walked away from her and into the male dressing room, not wanting to be castigated again.

I walked in expecting to find a group of male models waiting for me to style their hair to match whatever shit outfit they have on. But when I looked around there was only one person in there. He was shirtless with only a pair of joggers on. He was seated in front of mirror on his phone, not acknowledging my presence.

As he tapped away on his phone, dings echoed from the far side of the room to the door where I was standing, indicating messages. "Mind closing the fucking door?" he rudely asked, "it's very noisy out there and I can't concentrate on trying to get this girl to sleep with me tonight," I saw his eyebrows furrow through the mirror.

I took a deep breath as I closed the door behind me. I just met him and I hate him already. You just got to fix his hair, keep your chill. I grabbed my bag full of hair product that I left in here before everyone arrived before walking over to him. 

I figured it would be a good idea of leaving my bag in here instead of having to carry it with me through the hectic crowd that was yet to come. As I got closer to the model I set my bag on the table and opened it up revealing about twenty different hair product.

I decided to introduce myself despite the shit attitude he gave me just a minute ago. "Hey, I'm Alexis but everyone calls me Alex. I'm the stylist for today," I offered a hand. 

The model waved me off, not paying attention to me only to his phone. "I don't care who you are, just fix my hair so it will match this shit pair of joggers," he raked his fingers through his brown, disheveled hair. 

As he brought his arm into the air I noticed he had tattoos. Tiny ones, not enough to make a sleeve or anything. I caught a glimpse of a smiley face tattoo with the eyes as x's on the side of his right wrist.

"Whatever," I said under my breath. 

The model quickly slammed his phone against his thighs and snapped his head up to me. The sound his phone and his thigh gave off as they made contact made me jump. As I looked over at him he was glowering up at me from his seat.

"Excuse me?" he spat. "You are in no position to talk to me like that. I'm Louis fucking Tomlinson, who are you?" he said in an angry tone of voice.

I tried my best to bite my tongue, but I just couldn't.

Authors note: 

I hope you guys will enjoy this book as much as I enjoy writing this. I know this is the first chapter but just thinking about model louis has got me sweating. 

please vote so I know you like this so far, so I know whether or not to continue :)