don't follow - layne staley

chapter 3

Weeks passed as Layne began to regularly visit the Olive Cafe, Ivy always behind the counter- ready with his black coffee that she prepared, with him only in her mind. They often found themselves sneaking out to the back to share a cigarette, discussing music and movies. She wanted to escalate the relationship desperately but moving too fast was the last thing she desired. His sweetness was to be savoured and she was craving every last bit of it. However, she couldn't stand around not knowing him outside of the cafe.

Ivy found herself in love with him but she couldn't admit it. Love was too obscure for her, she was wandering into a feeling that she never felt before. There was no book for her to read or person telling her what to do. It was only herself navigating through a desert of complicated emotions.

She refused to even think about introducing him to family and friends, it would be far too messy. To let him into her grandma's house was something very personal and he hasn't achieved that key to remove that lock yet. 

~

IVY'S DORM

It was the night of the performance, Ivy was steering through all her clothing options. She sighed as she looked at the tornado of mess she made, the thought of tidying it up exhausted her. Picking up a red and white striped dress that tied at the back of her neck, she took it to the bathroom to prepare herself for her evening performance. It held around her body perfectly, embracing her curves.

Ivy has been in a band, Cherri Twist, for a few months, performing her songs in bars around the town. She drew in a little fanbase but nothing major that would shoot her into fame; not that she yearned for it. A few recent shows she had noticed the slight escalation in audience numbers, nerving her a little. She only wanted this to be a small thing. Not a huge commitment. 

She drew on a little makeup, smearing a dark red lipstick across her lips and dark eyeshadow along her eyelids- desiring a sexy and compelling look; totally opposite to her appearance at the café, at least that's what she thought anyway. Slipping on knee-height leather boots, she gave herself one last look in the mirror and disappeared out the door. 

The evening breeze was cool, giving Ivy goosebumps along her bare legs. She tried to snuggle into her jacket as much as possible as she walked over to the bar in the dark ink of the night. To be with her friends on stage was a privilege she could have, she had to cherish this moment forever. To see Alex and Eliza basically jumping up and down at the thought of this performance reminded her of the passion that ran through them all. The stench of cigarettes rotted outside the bar, and the scent of alcohol welcomed her inside.

"It's Ivy! Finally! Come here you stinker-" Alex, her drummer, grabbed her- ruffling up her hair. He stuffed her face into his bomber jacket, smudging her makeup. 

"We were worried you weren't going to show up," Charli, Eliza's girlfriend, full of worry as she embraced Ivy into the bar. Her manoeuvres were slow and careful, her flow was like a small stream, it was gentle and small. Her blond hair trickled down her back, the candle light exposing her face just enough to see her long eyelashes that fell downwards.

"Sorry, I go to university now so I think I'm better than you all," Ivy announced as she followed her bandmates onto the small stage in the corner.

This bar wasn't any casual bar. It's been used for music for centuries and has been known to throw new musicians into stardom. Entangled with the smell of alcohol and wood, it comforted Ivy. The paintwork was peeling but charming nonetheless, fairy lights were twisted around the frames that held the building up. Candles were lit in every corner, flickering a warm orange light that encapsulated the whole bar. Hits of glasses and chatter filled the room, the occasional burst of laughter. The atmosphere was drunk on laughter and excitement.