Page 93 of Written in Scent

I step outside into the campus twilight, leaves crunching under my sneakers as I cross the wide green toward the gardens. The air carries the crisp edge of early fall, and for once my stomach doesn’t twist with the old familiar nerves. Instead a gentle buzz of anticipation moves through me, like the first sip of tea on a cool morning.

By the time I reach the spot where he asked to meet, dusk has softened the edges of everything. The trees stand in muted silhouette, and the path ahead curves gently into deeper shadow. I pause, spotting the same spreading oak where I once sat writing poetry, and I think about how much has changed since then.

He steps out from beneath the oak exactly where he promised he would be, and the sight of him steals a breath from my lungs.

At six foot four his frame fills the space beneath the branches with easy authority, black hair flopping across his forehead in its natural tight wave while the sides stay neatly shaved close. The last of the dusk light catches on the pale gray blue of his eyes and highlights the deep tone of his skin where it meets the crisp collar of his jacket.

Neatly trimmed stubble frames a calm mouth that curves into the smallest smile as he lifts one hand in greeting, the expensive brown leather watch catching a glint of gold. Dark jeans complete the picture, simple and put together in that way only Alex ever manages, and the faint trace of his scent reaches me before he speaks.

“Elodie,” he says, voice a low rumble that nuzzles somewhere behind my ribs. No grand gesture, no sweeping movement, just that assured confidence that makes the whole evening feel already planned and safe.

I smile back, the anticipation in my chest blooming further. We fall into step together along the garden path, leaves whispering under our shoes, and he leads me to the sleek black car waiting at the curb.

It’s understated luxury, nothing flashy, just seamless lines and plush leather that smells faintly of him when I slide into the passenger seat. I think about how Sophie had mentioned that Alex’s Dad was quite wealthy and that he was likely to take over the family business. He starts the engine and the car glides forward into the deepening twilight.

The conversation begins slowly, the way everything with Alex seems to. “Favorite color?” he asks, glancing over with genuine curiosity rather than expectation.

I don’t need to think about that answer. “The deep teal of a morpho butterfly wing. The kind that shifts when the light hits it just right.”

He nods once, as if filing the detail away like something precious. “I can see that suiting you.”

“I don’t really know much about you.” I admit.

A beat passes before he answers. “I’m studying business because it’s what my family expects. I’m to inherit our family company, so they want me focusing on strategy, finance, leadership… All the things that keep the Whitmore name strong.” His fingers tap once against the steering wheel, the watch catching light again. “It’s not the path I would have chosen for myself, but fighting it has never seemed worth the cost. Not when so many people are counting on me to get it right.”

I listen, watching the way the dashboard lights play across the strong line of his jaw. He doesn’t rush to fill the silence, and that space lets me find my own words.

“Entomology chose me the first time I watched a caterpillar become something entirely new. I never get tired of the details, the way every tiny system fits together. It never feels like performing, and yet it all puts on a performance anyway — in the simple way the cycles work. It feels like breathing.”

He smiles at that. “I like how you talk about it. Like the world is still full of miracles even when you’ve seen them under a microscope a hundred times.”

The road curves gently away from campus, trees thickening on either side.

“It sounds like a lot is expected of you.” I comment.

He exhales, the sound carrying the first thread of real vulnerability. “It gets exhausting sometimes, carrying everyone’s idea of perfection. My father expects the grades, the wins, the flawless future. The pack looks to me to keep us steady. I’m grateful every day that they also give me room to be more than just the apex. They let me breathe too. And lacrosse helps. A lot.”

His words land delicately between us, honest and unguarded in a way that makes my chest ache with understanding.

I reach over without thinking and rest my hand on the console between us. He covers it with his own, thumb brushing once across my knuckles, and the car carries us forward into the night.

We slow and turn onto a narrow dirt track that winds between tall pines, and Alex parks at the very edge of a hidden meadow. Dusk has deepened into true night, and the open grass stretches out before us like a living canvas.

Thousands of fireflies pulse in languid glowing waves, rising and falling in gentle rhythm, turning the darkness into something soft and magical.

My breath catches at the sight. Cool grass brushes against my sneakers as I step out, the blades damp with evening dew that soaks through the fabric, but I don’t even care.

The hum of night insects drifts on the air, layered beneath the pulse of light, and every golden flicker reflects in the pale gray of Alex’s eyes. The glow catches on the wave of his black hair where it falls across his forehead, warming the deep tone of his skin and the neat line of stubble along his jaw. He looks at home here, enduring and unhurried, as if the meadow itself has been waiting for us.

He reaches into the trunk and pulls out a simple blanket of wool in a deep navy that he spreads across a flat patch of grass. From the car he brings two thermoses of tea and a bottle of water. Just the essentials and the living light all around us.

We settle onto the blanket, and for a moment the only sound is the rustle of leaves and the distant call of a night bird. Alex leans back on his elbows, gaze drifting across the meadow before he speaks.

“This place has been ours since freshman year,” he says, voice low. “Chase and I used to come here when everything on campus felt too loud and too fast. When we missed Adrian and Jamie… and when they visited, we would bring them here too. We sat right here and decided we would wait. No casual dating, or arranged matches. We wanted the real thing, the one omega whose scent would feel like home to every single one of us.”

He turns his head, eyes meeting mine in the firefly glow. “We never expected it to happen this soon. But the moment I caught your scent when you were doing that field study, I knew. And I knew the others would too.”

The words linger like the cool night air, carrying his truth. I pull my knees closer and let the golden lights dance between us, the meadow wrapping us in a cocoon of safety I’ve never felt anywhere else.