Model Behavior

Delaney sat in front of one of the lighted mirrors, with a stylist behind her. He was toying with her hair over and over, trying to figure out which look went best with the denim jacket Louis had made. It was one of Louis’s more casual looks, but Delaney loved it just the same, and she was more than happy to be wearing it.

“Louis,” the stylist called, as he threw Delaney’s hair into a loose, messy bun. Louis walked over, placing his hands on the back of Delaney’s chair, as he looked at the tall, thin man. “What do you think of this? I can pull a few pieces out, but with the bangs there’s not much else I can do.”

Louis sighed, looking down at Delaney with his eyebrows raised. “Didn’t they teach you at your modeling school never to get bangs? Career suicide, new girl. How am I supposed to work with that?”

Delaney’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment, and she would have begun tugging at her hair had it not been pulled back. She was used to getting scolded by the agents who accused of her being less than model-esque, but she hadn’t been expecting to be put down by the designer she admired so much. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond, and her lips quivered for a few moments before she did.

“I didn’t go to modeling school,” she said, her voice shaky. She tried to sound confident – like her mother had taught her – but she fell terribly short.

“Figures,” Louis said, with a roll of his eyes. He looked displeased to say the least, and he turned to the stylist with a groan. “Just do whatever you can. I know you’ll make it work.”

The stylist nodded, and Louis was across the room in seconds, leaving Delaney bruised by his words and in utter shock that he’d even said them.

“Don’t worry about him,” the stylist said, pulling a few of her strands from the bun. “He’s got a real sore spot when it comes to models. It’s nothing against you.”

Delaney nodded, but she couldn’t help feeling like she’d made a wrong decision in admiring Louis for so long. The Louis Tomlinson she met was nothing like the brilliant but kind designer she’d created in her head, and it was disappointing to see that he didn’t live up to her expectations. His clothes were more than she could have imagined, but Louis Tomlinson himself was nothing like she pictured him.

“Alright,” the stylist said, as he pulled her hair loose from the bun, letting her chocolate hair fall to her shoulders. “Go grab another piece and we’ll get back to work.”

Smiling at the stylist, she excused herself from the chair, before making her way over to the rack of clothing that had been assigned to her. Amongst the many beautiful pieces, she wasn’t quite sure what to pick next, but she chose the flower print dress she’d been admiring for so long.

Back in the work room, models were expected to be comfortable completely in the nude and there was no such thing as a changing room. People dropped their clothes and put on new ones out in the open, for anyone to see, and that was one thing Delaney hadn’t quite become comfortable with. She couldn’t admit it though, because then she’d seem even less experienced than she already did.

Just as her hands reached the hem of her shirt, ready to lift it over her head, she was interrupted.

“Delaney.” Louis’s voice spoke behind her, softer than it had been before. She spun around, her eyes meeting his sea green ones. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and his shoulders were pushed forward. “I’m sorry for being cross with you. It’s just difficult when you want everything to be perfect and –”

“And I’m so not perfect,” she finished, twisting her lips at him. She knew it was a bad idea to speak out against the designer, but she’d been told by so many agencies how wrong she was so many times that she couldn’t help herself.

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

The two of them paused, both taking in a few breaths as they looked to the ground. She’d always seen Louis so confident before, and it was obvious from his stature that he felt bad about what he said. He didn’t like models, and he didn’t prefer to be around them, but he saw how badly hurt Delaney and he never meant to do that, despite everything she was and all that she stood for. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he hadn’t meant what he said, so with another breath, she looked back up at him.

“What were you going to say then?”

“I don’t know.” He chuckled. “I guess I hadn’t thought it all the way through. The words were pretty much coming out faster than I could keep up with them.”

“Well, try again.”

His lips turned to a half smile, and a small laugh fell from his lips. He shoved his hands back deep into his pockets, before filling his lungs with a deep breath.

“I just want everything to be perfect. I have this vision in my head of exactly how I want everything to look. All the guys have this swooped hair, save for a few. All the girls have a light, natural makeup, with hair that goes with every look. All of my pieces flow together and everyone can see how I went from one to the next. Everyone looks up at the stage at everything that I’ve created and it’s like they just get me. And in that moment I’m connected with the audience and they can feel what I felt. I want that. I want my vision to become a reality. I want everyone to see my work the way that I see it.”

When he stopped speaking, his hands flew to his hair, rubbing against it, and it was painfully obvious that he’d let her in on more than he intended. He wasn’t just a designer; he was someone with a vision that put everything into his work. He left his heart out on that runway and this show meant everything to him. It wasn’t just Delaney he was worried about; it was anyone that could ruin his dream.

“Louis, I –”

“It’s stupid,” he said. His voice had lost the soft tone it carried before, and it was replaced with a harsher one that she recognized from the styling chair. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re just a model.”

The way he said ‘model’ was like it was venom on his tongue. He spat it out like a curse, as though he couldn’t get rid of it soon enough.

“Just grow your hair out for the next show you’re in,” he said, as he began to take a few steps backwards. “Your next designer will really appreciate it.”

With a quick twist, Louis was headed back towards the styling chairs, to consult with another one of his models, and it was as though he hadn’t nearly spilled his heart out to her. She wondered whether he said things like that all the time – if part of Louis’s personality was to go around giving heartfelt speeches – and she realized she knew very little about the designer who had so quickly gone from rude to admirable and back again.

It was like Louis had two sides to him, and she was determined to find out which side was real.