Page 22 of Written in Scent

Regardless, today is the day.

The Behavioral Entomology lecture hall sits in the Natural Sciences building. The moment I step inside, the space feels welcoming in its own way. Wooden desks arranged in gentle rows, diffused overhead lighting that casts a golden hue over everything, the faint comforting scent of old books mixed with fresh coffee from the students who arrived early. I choose a seat near the front, pull out my notebook, and smooth the page with careful fingers.

I’m determined to stay focused today. No distractions. No golden and amber memories or untimely bodily responses. Just the science.

Dr. Celeste Okonkwo steps inside with a confident air that makes the entire room wake up. She carries herself with vibrant energy, her warm smile lighting the space like sunlight breaking through clouds. Her animated gestures start even before she reaches the lectern, drawing every eye in the room.

“Good morning, everyone,” she says, voice rich and full of life. “I hope you are ready to dive into the most fascinating language on Earth. The language of scent.”

She launches straight into the semester focus without wasting a moment. Chemical ecology. The invisible conversations that shape entire ecosystems. She moves around the front of the room as she speaks, hands painting pictures in the air, making the topic feel alive and urgent.

Then she dives into pheromone signaling, and my stomach does a small, traitorous flip.

She explains how insects use chemical messages to find mates, mark territory, and coordinate entire colonies. Her examples are vivid and funny. She describes firefly flashes as nature’s original dating app and has the class laughing within minutes. She talks about ant trails that can guide thousands of workers with perfect precision. Every point lands with charm and clarity.

“Insects invented scent based seduction long before humans had perfume,” she says with a playful wink, and half the room chuckles while the other half leans forward.

I grip my pen tighter and force my eyes to the page. I will not think about Jamie Miller. I will not remember how that warm golden vanilla scent wrapped around me in the quad. A whole week has passed. I should be over it by now. I’m here to learn about insects, not to let one random encounter derail my focus.

But her words keep pulling at me. Pheromone trails. Mating signals. The way a single chemical cue can change behavior in an instant. My mind keeps flashing back to that one collision despite every effort to push it away. My skin feels too tight as I fight the unreasonable urge to seek him out. I bite the inside of my cheek and scribble notes faster, trying to drown the impulse in facts and diagrams.

Dr. Okonkwo’s voice stays engaging the entire time, making the lecture feel like a conversation rather than a monologue. She’s exactly the kind of professor who makes you forget you are in a classroom at all.

I just wish my brain would forget one particular scent along with it.

She describes how queen bees use pheromones to control the entire hive, turning workers into loyal followers with a single chemical signal. The class laughs when she compares it to a perfectly run office where one alpha’s scent could make everyone fall in line.

Every new example feels personal.

She talks about moth pheromone attraction, how a single female can draw males from miles away with one conscientiously released chemical. My cheeks flush. I bite the inside of my lip and scribble notes so furiously the page starts to indent.

Focus. Just focus on the science, Elodie.

Each point Dr. Okonkwo makes lands with charm and humor, turning a serious lecture into something almost entertaining.

For everyone else, it probably is.

For me, it feels like a trap. Every mention of scent based communication drags my mind straight back to that warm golden amber vanilla that I can’t seem to shake. I keep telling myself it was nothing. Just hormones. A silly reaction from an omega who grew up with betas and does not know how to handle these things properly.

I should be stronger than this.

I flip to a new page and keep writing, determined to drown the memory in facts and diagrams. The lecture continues around me, lively and full of laughter, while I sit in my seat fighting a battle no one else in the room even knows is happening.

This class is supposed to be my safe space. My escape. Instead it feels like the universe is testing me on purpose.

The lecture comes to an end with a wave of chairs scraping back and notebooks closing. Students begin gathering their things, voices rising in animated conversation about what they just learned. I stay in my seat for a moment, my heart beating a little faster than usual.

This is my chance.

I stand and make my way to the front of the room where Dr. Okonkwo is still by the lectern, collecting her notes with that same vibrant energy. My palms feel slightly damp as I approach.

“Dr. Okonkwo?” I say, my voice coming out more subdued than I intended. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Dr. Halvorsen mentioned that you are leading a field expedition to the rainforest over midterm. She thought I might be interested in applying.”

Her face lights up with genuine delight. “You must be Elodie Maddison. Mira told me about you. She was quite impressed.”

The warmth in her voice eases some of my nerves. I nod, feeling a flutter of excitement in my chest.

“If you’re interested,” she continues, handing me a piece of paper with the information I need. “I would like you to write a short paper. One page on your particular interest in this part of the rainforest and why you would like to join the trip. Have it with me in the next two weeks.”