Page 28 of Written in Scent

I settle in and wrap my hands around the warm cup. “Peaceful. Jules gave me another small collection to pin, and I lost track of time again. I barely made it to that shared biology lecture yesterday and today I almost forgot to eat. I’m going to need to start setting alarms for myself.”

Sophie laughs, the sound light and easy between us. “You and those drawers. One day they are going to adopt you.”

She tells me about her sociology seminar on community structures while I steal a sip of the chai, the gentle spice warming me from the inside.

This is exactly what I needed today. Just lunch with Sophie and the cozy comfort of our friendship. No alphas or unexpected scents… just the two of us and the simple pleasure of being understood.

We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. The soup is perfectly seasoned, and I find myself relaxing into the usual routine of lunch together. But the question that has been sitting in the back of my mind refuses to stay silent any longer.

I set my spoon down and glance around to make sure no one is paying attention to our corner of the cafeteria. “Sophie,” I say quietly, “can I ask you something kind of embarrassing?”

Her green eyes lift to mine immediately, full of open curiosity. “Of course. Always.”

I hesitate for only a second before pushing forward. “The scent blockers I’ve been using… they don’t feel strong enough anymore. I keep having these little reactions I can’t control, and it’s getting harder to focus. Do you know of anything stronger? Something more reliable for class or when I’m working in the archives?”

Sophie nods without any judgment, her expression turning thoughtful and practical. She leans in a little closer, keeping her voice low and conspiratorial the way only best friends can. “I have been there. The standard ones are fine when nothing is really testing you, but once you start running into so many scents they can feel almost useless. I switched to the clinical-grade patches a few weeks ago. They are a little more expensive but they last longer and actually block the stronger pulls.”

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small blue packet, sliding it across the table to me. “These are the ones I use now. The pharmacy in town carries them. I can go with you this weekend if you want. We can make a little trip out of it.”

Relief moves through me at how easy and supportive she makes it sound. There’s no teasing in her voice, only understanding. “Thank you,” I say, tucking the packet into my cardigan pocket. “I just… I need to be able to focus. The reactions are getting distracting.”

Sophie gives me a knowing smile and steals one of my cherry tomatoes. “The universe does seem to be testing you lately, doesn’t it? First Jamie with the rose, then that grumpy alpha in the woods. It’s like they are all lining up just to challenge your focus.”

I let out a small laugh, even as heat rises in my cheeks. Her words are light, but they hit closer to the truth than I want to admit. Especially after yesterday’s lecture and the studious alpha with the rainy scent who has refused to leave my thoughts.

We are still talking about the clinical-grade blockers when movement a few tables away catches my attention. A small group has gathered near the windows. A young omega, probably a freshman like me, sits in the center with three alphas surrounding her. They look like an established pack, assured in the way they take up space.

One of the alphas leans down and runs his nose along the side of her neck in a very public scent marking. The gesture is possessive, almost territorial. The other two alphas stand close on either side, their bodies angled toward her in clear protection.

The omega’s cheeks are flushed red. She keeps glancing around the cafeteria with wide eyes, looking more flustered and overwhelmed than pleased. Her shoulders stay slightly hunched, as though she is trying to make herself smaller under their attention.

Something uncomfortable twists in my stomach as I watch.

This is exactly what I have always pictured when I think about pack life. The loss of personal space. The public claim. The way an omega can so quickly become the center of intense focus whether she wants it or not. It looks suffocating. This girl does not seem cherished at this moment. She seems claimed.

A fresh wave of certainty moves through me. This is why I don’t want a pack. This is why I turned Jamie down so pointedly and why I’m asking Sophie for stronger scent blockers. I want to move through my days without feeling like my choices, my space, or my focus could be overshadowed by someone else’s instincts.

Sophie must notice the shift in my expression because she turns slightly to follow my gaze. Her voice is hushed when she speaks again. “They are probably newly matched,” she says gently.

I stay silent, still watching the scene, my appetite suddenly diminished.

“That kind of public marking is a common early pack instinct. The alphas are reinforcing the scent match to deter anyone else from approaching her. It can look intense from the outside, but for most omegas it eventually feels comforting once they are ready. Like the pack is saying she is safe and claimed in the best way.”

I listen intently. Her words make logical sense, the way everything Sophie explains about pack dynamics always does. She speaks from expertise and kindness, never pressure. Part of me understands that what I am seeing might one day feel protective and heartwarming to the girl at that table.

Yet it still lands like a weight in my chest. The way the alphas hover, the public claim, the way the omega seems small beneath their attention. It feels suffocating. Like her space, her choices, her very presence could be swallowed up before she ever had time to decide what she wanted.

I nod, offering Sophie a small smile so she knows I heard her. “I get it. Logically, I do. It just… it doesn’t feel like something I could ever want.”

Sophie reaches across the table and gives my hand a quick, reassuring squeeze. “And that’s OK. You don’t have to want it. Not everyone does.”

We finish our lunch and try to change the subject, talking about lighter things, her next sociology paper and my latest pinning project. When we stand and clear our trays, the cafeteria noise rises around us again. I walk beside her toward the exit, the faint traces of amber vanilla and crisp bergamot still lingering in the back of my mind no matter how hard I try to push them away.

I don’t want a pack. I want my studies, I want my unwavering focus. And much further down the line, when everything is established and my degree is secure, perhaps I will find a nice, steady beta boyfriend. Someone calm and uncomplicated who would never expect me to fit into a group dynamic or lose myself in someone else’s instincts.

That thought feels solid. Safe.

I hold on to it as we step out into the cool afternoon air, the faint scent of that cute alpha still following me like a stubborn shadow.