Dark as the Night

35

Author's Note: Pearl Jam's "Black" is one of those songs I can totally loop for hours and I did when writing this scene.  I feel like its melancholy, vibe and growly vocals are something James would enjoy singing.  I recommend listening while reading this chapter!

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Although Odessa didn't really want to talk about the dream of her mother's death, she felt the need to get it off her chest, as though healing couldn't begin until she'd told someone. Tai's insistence that she focus on the future rather than the past had deterred her from telling him about it. She held in her roiling feelings until after work that night, when she went back to the singles dorms. However, instead of to her room at the front of the second floor, she climbed up to the back corner of the third.

She knocked on the door, and after a minute, it opened. James answered the door barefoot and with wet hair. Water dripped down his neck and he pulled on a worn t-shirt. It clung to his still-wet skin as he stretched it over his broad chest.

Odessa mumbled, "Hey," then glanced away, shifting from foot to foot. When her eyes met his again, he was looking down at her with an eyebrow cocked in curiosity. He saw the look on her face and lowered it.

"What's up?" he asked.

She faltered, picking absently at her own jeans. "I looked up your room number from your medical records. I know that's kind of a privacy breach so I'm sorry."

James shook his head with an amused smile and moved to let her in. "I don't care. You should have just asked and I'd have told you." He closed the door behind her as Odessa stepped in the room.

She turned to him and took a deep breath. "It's just that I need to... not be alone for a little bit." Her voice trembled at the end, and she closed her eyes and took another slow, deep breath.

James pointed to his couch and she sat down. He picked up a towel and sat on his bed, watching her carefully while he finished drying his hair. "Sorry," he said, his voice muffled by the towel in front of his face. "I had just gotten out of the shower when you knocked."

Odessa smiled. "I figured that out, actually." She looked around his room, at the shelf of photos on the wall next to her, the antlers across the room above the bed, the paper books and large e-screen on his desk. Her eyes rested on the guitar in the corner. "Oh, do you play?" she asked.

"Yeah, but not for other people to hear," he said flatly, throwing the towel on the floor and finger-combing his long, red hair. He pulled it into a bun at the back of his head with a band he'd had on his wrist.

Odessa nodded absently. "I see." She was quiet for a minute, trying to keep calm, until James broke the silence.

"You're the first girl who didn't ask me to make an exception."

Odessa's eyes jerked to him and she cocked her head curiously. He was crouched over with his forearms on his knees. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously at her. "Why would I do that?" she asked honestly. "I figure there's a reason why you don't play for other people, and if you'd wanted me to know that reason then you would have told me."

Her tone of voice was simple and genuine, and James visibly relaxed. One side of his mouth turned up but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "You don't seem very interested," he commented drily.

"I am interested, but that doesn't mean I'm going to pry." She paused a beat then added, deadpan, "Besides, I know it's not because you're bad at playing. If you were, with your ego, you wouldn't admit to playing it at all." In a more serious tone, she continued quietly, "I imagine it's tied to memory that's so special, you don't want to share it with anyone."