Page 46 of Written in Scent

“You need to get out of this room and out of your head,” she declares, waving the tickets in my face. “Lacrosse scrimmage. Fresh air. Loud cheering. Total distraction. It’ll be fun, I swear.”

I try to protest, but the words feel weak even as I say them. The truth is I barely slept, and the restless ache from last night is still curled behind my ribs like something alive. Sophie’s offer feels like the only thing that might silence it, even if only for a couple of hours.

So I let her drag me across campus.

We settle into seats halfway up the stands just as the crowd starts to thicken. The noise hits me all at once — cheers, laughter, the low hum of hundreds of voices layered together. My shoulders tense. The energy feels too big, especially after the events of yesterday. It’s too chaotic, like it might swallow me whole. I grip the edge of the metal bench and breathe through it, trying to stay small and invisible the way I usually do in crowds.

Then Jamie’s scent drifts over to me on the breeze.

Warm golden amber, soft vanilla, and that subtle citrus peel. It wraps around me like a familiar blanket instead of setting off every alarm in my body. The tight knot in my chest loosens before I even realize it is happening. I don’t panic, leaning into it instead, and letting the comfort wash over my shoulders.

I scan the sidelines, searching.

There he is.

Jamie stands near the edge of the pitch with a camera balanced on his shoulder, filming the warm-up with easy focus. His floppy blond hair catches the sunlight, and even from here I can see the relaxed set of his shoulders as he moves with the equipment like it’s a part of him. He has no idea I’m watching.

My heart gives one slow, traitorous flip.

I look away quickly, but the comfort of his scent stays with me, enduring against the roar of the crowd.

Sophie bumps my shoulder gently. “You OK?” she asks, already grinning at the energy around us.

I manage a small nod.

For now, I am.

The team runs out onto the field and the crowd erupts into loud cheers. I join in automatically, clapping along with everyone else. Then my eyes catch the name printed across the back of the captain’s jersey.

Whitmore.

The big C patch on the front makes my stomach drop. My cheer dies instantly in my throat.

Sophie turns to me right away. “Are you OK?” she asks, concern flashing across her face.

I can’t answer, because then I see the others.

Chase and Adrian are sitting pitch-side, both wearing replica Whitmore jerseys. The realization slams into me all at once. The world tilts and I sway on my feet.

Sophie grabs my arm and guides me down onto the bench. She strokes my hair with gentle, soothing strokes, giving me that comforting omega touch while I try to even my breathing.

In a shaky whisper I explain that the guys from the pack are all here. This is not the escape I was hoping for at all.

Sophie’s eyes widen the moment I point them out. She leans forward in her seat, following the direction of my trembling finger toward the three alphas on the sidelines. Her mouth parts, then slowly curves into something between shock and pure delight.

“The Whitmore pack?” she whispers, voice full of awe. “Elodie, they are literally the most eligible pack on campus. I’ve heard stories about Chase and Alex. Everyone has. I knew there were two freshmen in the pack, but I had no idea Jamie was one of them.”

She turns back to me, her green eyes sparkling with sudden mischief. I can practically see the matchmaking wheels turning in her head. Sophie has been subtle about it until now, but the look on her face says she has just decided to step fully into the role of fairy godmother.

The crowd around us starts to settle as the game is about to begin. People find their seats and the noise level drops just enough for Sophie to lean in closer. She takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Stay,” she says tenderly but firmly. “Just watch the game. It might actually be good for you to see them in their element. You don’t have to talk to them. You don’t even have to let them know you’re here. Just… observe.”

I hesitate, my heart still racing. Every instinct tells me to leave. But Sophie’s hand is reassuring in mine, and some small, traitorous part of me really does want to see them like this.

I swallow hard and give her one small nod.

“OK,” I whisper. “I’ll stay.”