To Want You

Chapter 4 : Scents and Science

Another day at school. Math, Science, and History are my kryptonite. Mapeh? That’s my jam. I tug at a fistful of my hair as I try to swallow everything our teacher’s explaining. Something about finding X. Honestly, I was lost after “this is how you do it.”

It’s not that I’m lazy. I just don’t see how these formulas will help me in life. Maybe engineers, scientists, or whatever need it—but someone like me? Someone who just wants a livable career? Numbers and letters won’t do much.

Accepting defeat, I drop my head onto the desk. Snickers float through the classroom, but the loudest laugh comes from the teacher himself. Typical. He ignores me like always, which is fine—I don’t mind. He gives fair grades, and he doesn’t judge anyone for dozing off mid-lesson.

Minutes crawl by. Finally, math ends. Science is next. Lucky me, I share that class with Abel. I grab my bag and head upstairs.

By the time I enter the classroom, his silver hair is unmistakable. He’s crouched over his desk, head buried in crossed arms, looking like the world’s sleepiest pup. A mischievous thought sparks in my mind. Payback. For last week.

I set my bag down and creep toward him, holding my breath, grin stretching across my face. This is going to be fun. I loom over him like a predator about to strike.

“Boo!” I slam my fists on his desk.

Abel jerks awake, grabbing both my arms in one motion. Ouch. That grip could probably crush steel. I yelp, half from shock, half from pain. My arms might bear marks tomorrow.

“H-how—?”

He rubs his eyes, finally noticing me, and mutters, “I could smell you outside.”

Of course. I knew he had sharp senses, but wow. I should’ve remembered.

“Were you trying to scare me?” I scoff, prancing back to my seat behind him.

“I’ll get you next time,” I warn.

Abel snickers, balancing atop his chair so he faces me fully. The sleepy droop is gone, replaced by alert, messy-haired puppy energy. “Here’s a tip,” he says, voice teasing. “Wear a lot of perfume.”

I freeze. He knows I’m allergic to strong scents.

“Uh… how does that help?”

He gives me a look like I just asked the dumbest question in history. “Smell. I knew you were coming because I could recognize your natural scent. Cover it, and I won’t know it’s you.”

I blink. “Wait. You memorize what we smell like?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Whatever. Don’t overthink it.”

I shape my mouth into an ‘O.’ Okay. Makes sense. He drags his hair back and slides into his seat properly as I pull out my books.

Just because I hate Science doesn’t mean I can’t do it. Unlike Math, this subject actually makes sense. I still hate it, though.

The teacher arrives. The empty seats have been filled by latecomers. Chatter bounces across the room, chairs scrape, papers shuffle—it’s a storm of noise until the teacher finally calls for silence.

But something catches my attention. Abel keeps glancing over his shoulder. Once, maybe twice, I’d ignore it. Fifteen times? I can’t.

My gaze lands on a girl at the back, closest to the window. Crimson hair tied into a ponytail, strands framing sharp angles on her face. Pointed nose, pouty lips. She taps a pen silently against her desk, lost in thought, like she stepped straight out of a romance novel.

Abel’s eyes are locked on her. Confirmed. He’s watching her. She’s pretty. Quiet. A little aloof, maybe? Too soon to tell.

Am I seeing sparks here? I suppress a grin. If she’s his type… well, I might have to introduce myself later. Who knows? Maybe she’s his mate.