Page 53 of Written in Scent

It’s not full singing, just a low, breathy hum here and there when he recognizes the melody. His voice is shaky and slightly off-key, but it blends with mine in a surprisingly tender way.

I like it more than I expect.

The sound of him humming along while he edits, while I work on my specimens, feels strangely right. Like the lab is no longer just mine.

As the minutes slip by, I notice a subtle shift in Jamie.

He’s stopped performing.

There are no more playful jokes, no teasing grins, no chaotic charm meant to win me over. He simply sits beside me, elbows on the counter, eyes focused on his laptop screen while his fingers move deftly over the keys.

For the first time, it feels like I am actually seeing him. And he is actually seeing me.

Not an omega, the girl he has been trying to woo, just Elodie. The one who loses hours in a lab surrounded by tiny wings and careful labels. The one who sings under her breath when she thinks no one else is listening. The one who needs space more than she needs romance.

He’s giving me exactly what I asked for yesterday.

Space to exist in my own world without anyone trying to pull me into theirs.

I pin the last specimen of the evening, slide the drawer closed, and let the music fill the space between us. Jamie hums along again, off-key and gentle, and something tender and unexpected lingers in my chest.

It’s surprising, but I don’t feel the need to run from it.

Elodie finishes her last specimen with careful little movements. She sets the pinning board aside, reaches over, and switches off the music. The lab falls into an amiable lull. She starts packing her things away with that familiar focused efficiency I have come to recognize.

She has grown a little shy again. When I ask if she is ready to head out, she answers with small nods rather than words. Her cheeks have the faintest pink to them, and she avoids meeting my eyes for more than a second or two at a time.

I wait patiently at the door, giving her space. I watch her in the dimming light as she moves around the lab one last time, turning off the desk lamp, checking that the drawers are properly closed, making sure everything is exactly as it should be. There’s something peaceful about seeing her like this, in her element, surrounded by the tiny lives she cares for so deeply.

As she finally walks toward me and locks the lab door behind her, I feel a shift between us. Something softer, real.

We meander out of the building together in comfortable silence. The night air is cool against my skin after the still of the lab. Elodie walks beside me, her steps light and measured, the faint scent of her still clinging to the air between us.

I glance over at her. “Can I walk you back to your dorm?”

She hesitates for only a second, then nods. “OK.”

Her voice is hushed. I can tell she’s telling herself she’s only allowing this because it’s dark outside. I don’t mind, I’ll take whatever reason she gives me.

We walk side by side along the path. The campus lights cast long shadows across the grass. After a few moments I speak again, keeping my tone pleasant.

“I liked working with you tonight,” I tell her. “It was really nice just sitting there while you did your thing.”

Elodie smiles a little, almost shy. “It was nice,” she admits.

I feel the words burrow affectionately into my chest.

There’s so much more I want to say. I want to tell her how my pack could make her life easier. How we would support her studies, protect her time, give her a safe place to come home to. How we would never ask her to choose between us and the bugs she loves so much. But I hold every word back. I don’t want to scare her, not after everything she has already been through yesterday and today.

So I stay quiet and walk beside her, letting the comfortable silence stretch between us again.

When we reach her dorm building, Elodie slows to a stop on the path. She turns toward me, the glow of the entrance light catching in her strawberry blonde hair.

“Thank you,” she says. “For hanging out with me tonight. It was nice.”

Her voice is a little shy. I feel every word land deep in my chest.

I lift my hand tentatively, giving her plenty of time to step away if she wants. She doesn’t.