Page 47 of Written in Scent

Sophie smiles, looking far too pleased with herself.

And just like that, I’m trapped. Not by the crowd, but by my own curiosity and my best friend’s very determined encouragement.

I can’t take my eyes off Alex.

The lacrosse kit is nothing like the clean, polished outfit he wore at the pack’s house. This version of him is rough and ready and powerfully alive. The dark jersey clings to his broad shoulders and the protective pads make him look even bigger, more commanding. The tight waves of his hair are already damp with sweat beneath the helmet, the edges barely visible, and when he moves it is with raw athletic grace that steals the breath from my lungs.

Sophie leans close and starts explaining the rules in a quick, excited whisper. It’s my first lacrosse game, so everything is new. She tells me about positions and plays, about how the attack players drive the ball toward the goal. I learn that Alex is attack, and the moment she says it everything clicks into place.

He dominates the field.

Every time he gets the ball he cuts through the defense like it’s not even there, moving with sharp precision and commanding leadership that makes the whole stadium feel smaller. He scores nearly every point for Rosewood, stick flashing, body shifting with effortless power. Each goal sends the crowd roaring, and I feel the sound vibrate through my chest.

I’m surprised by how turned on I feel watching him. Heat pools insistently in my stomach, but my upgraded scent blockers seem to be holding strong. No one around us reacts. No heads turn or noses flare. It’s just me, quietly burning while I watch the captain of the team lead his pack to victory.

When the final whistle blows and Rosewood wins, I find myself on my feet before I can think. I’m jumping and screaming with the rest of the crowd, arms in the air, voice raw from cheering. I have never done this at a sports event in my life. I’ve never cared this much. But right now I am genuinely invested, rooting hard for Alex and his team like it matters more than anything else in the world.

Sophie laughs beside me and bumps my shoulder. “See? Told you it would be fun.”

I’m still smiling, cheeks flushed, heart racing from more than just the excitement of the game.

And I have no idea what to do with any of it.

The crowd begins to thin and move toward the exits. Sophie and I follow the flow of bodies, my legs still buzzing from all the unexpected cheering. My voice feels hoarse and my cheeks are flushed. I’ve never been this invested in a game before.

Then I catch a glimpse of Jamie’s floppy blond hair near the sidelines.

My feet change direction before my brain can catch up. I turn away from the main exit and head toward the railing instead. Sophie follows quickly behind me without a word.

I don’t get too close, stopping at the railing just far enough to watch without being seen. Jamie has his camera up and is filming the celebration. Alex stands in the middle of his teammates with his helmet off now. His black hair is tousled and unruly from the game, falling across his forehead in damp strands. He is smiling and laughing as he congratulates each player with easy claps on the back and quick words of praise.

He looks so much less serious than he did at the house. There’s a lightness to him, he looks so much more alive.

I wonder why he wasn’t like that with me.

Then I scold myself immediately for even thinking it.

I shouldn’t be noticing these things. I shouldn’t be here at all.

But I can’t make myself look away.

A scent wraps around me all at once, cool rain on stone and crisp bergamot, sharp and refreshing and so unmistakably Adrian that my breath catches. It steals my full attention in a single heartbeat. I turn my head and there he is, standing close enough that I can see the faint reflection of the field lights in his wire-rimmed glasses.

Sophie notices him immediately. She lights up with that friendly energy she is so good at and introduces herself before I can even open my mouth.

“Hi, I’m Sophie,” she says, offering her hand with a friendly smile. “Elodie’s roommate.”

Adrian shakes it politely, but his green eyes keep drifting back to me. In the daylight and with a clear head, I see him properly for the first time. The soft brown hair that falls just a little over his forehead, the gentle slope of his shoulders under the Whitmore jersey, the glimpse of intelligence behind his glasses. He looks utterly charming and so adorably real that my stomach does a deliberate flip.

He’s looking at me the same way.

I swallow and find my voice. “What are you studying?” I ask, the question coming out breathier than I mean it to.

“Biochemistry,” he answers, and the word sounds gentle when he says it. “Molecular signaling, pathways, genetics, that kind of thing.” He tilts his head slightly. “What about you?”

Before I can answer, Sophie jumps in enthusiastically. “Elodie is in the specialized entomology track. She’s absolutely brilliant with it. She already has her own desk in the archives and everything.”

My cheeks burn. I shoot her a look, but she just smiles innocently, clearly pleased with herself.