the model

thirty two

ALEXIS POV

Two weeks have passed by since I told Louis to leave me alone. Knowing Louis, he didn't listen. The first few days my phone was flooded with calls. One after another every time I didn't pick up. Sometimes I would answer it and just leave my phone on the counter while Louis constantly yelled my name. Eventually I lowered the in-call volume. 

After all the phone calls, he resulted in texting. Most of the messages consisted of him just saying my name with an occasional 'you better respond.' I blocked his number a few times just to get a moment of silence but he would start calling Natalie which made her get upset with me. I wasn't in the mood to deal with her shit so I had to unblock him. 

As much as I wanted to be furious with Louis I just wasn't. I was more hurt than I was angry which frustrated me. I didn't want to feel sad I wanted to feel my skin burn with anger. I wanted to be angry with him. I wanted to hate Louis but everything within me fought against my wanted anger and resulted in sadness. 

Not only did I have texts and calls but I had what was probably a hundred voicemail messages from him. I had to listen to them at the end of the day to make sure I didn't miss anything from work or family members. Most of the messages were full of silence and the sound of Louis huffing and puffing on the other line. What made me smile a little was as soon as the message started you could hear him moan and groan in frustration. I found joy in his anger, which is mean, but he deserves it. 

A few days I was woken up to sounds of knocking. Louis was the one knocking the first few times, but he got kicked out for making too much noise. After that it turned into florists. He would send me different color roses each time. And each time I told the florist he could have it. "Give it to your girlfriend." I would say, guessing he had one. Luckily, he did have one. "Really?" The florist asked and I nodded in response. Each time after that, the same florist would ask "Do you want it today?" already knowing my answer. "Keep it." 

Today, I was woken up to the sounds of knocking. Three swift ones. Not the rhythm of knocks I was used to. I stumbled out of bed, dragging half of my duvet onto the floor. "Coming." I mumbled. I looked into the mirror that was hanging in my hallway and wiped away the morning boogers in my eyes and straightened my hair the best I could without a brush. "Good enough." 

Once I reached the door, I looked through the peephole to see who it was. No one. "I got up for nothing." I groaned. I was about to walk away but I decided to look again. Just to make sure. Out of the corner of the peephole I saw an edge of a paper. I quickly unlocked my door and pulled it open. The only time someone gets a note on their door is when they're being evicted. "I'm pretty sure I paid rent this month." I said as I locked eyes on the paper. 

"It's not an eviction letter if that's what you're wondering." Natalie's voice surprised me as she walked up the stairs. I jumped back and hit my back against the wall. I winced in pain. 

"Good morning, sleeping beauty." She lightly kissed my cheek before walking into my apartment. "How do you know it's not?" I asked, grabbing the paper and shutting my door. 

"Because I saw Louis going down as I was coming up." She said nonchalantly while on the other hand I was visibly frozen. 

"Louis?" I choked out. "W-what do you mean you 'saw' him? Why is here? What did he do? What did you do? Did he say anything?" I rambled on. 

"Oh, my God, Alex. Please, and I mean this nicely, shut up." Nat laughed. "I didn't do anything to him. I asked him what he was doing and he said he wrote you something so that's how I know it's not an eviction letter. It's from him." She spoke.

It's from him. 

I looked down at the folded paper in my hand and turned it slightly. "Oh." I squeaked. I walked towards the couch where she was sitting. "Are you going to read it?" She asked. I stared at the paper. Now that I knew what it was I didn't want to open it. I didn't want to read it because I was afraid that all that hurt that I felt the first week was going to pour out all over again. I couldn't do it a second time.