The Alpha of Omega

Cam really had no particular destination or purpose in mind other than to grab some air and maybe a bite as he skipped down the stairs leading out of the dorm and onto the Commons. He grinned to himself knowing that providence had shone her light down upon him when Oliver was assigned as his roommate. He really liked the other youth and as far as he was concerned Oliver was a good shit. And who knew he could fight? Cam himself wasn’t much of a scrapper, once or twice in his life, schoolyard stuff. Watching that brute drop like a bag of potatoes when Oliver popped him was simply amazing. The fact the thug was wearing a wrist band wasn’t lost on him. It was the first one he had spotted on a guy other than ones he and Oliver were sporting.

Up ahead he spied a trendy little coffee shop called Cup of Joe’s, a fair degree of foot traffic moving in and out so he figured he would grab a bagel or croissant and a coffee and chillax. Inside the bustling little place the barista was friendly and quickly filled his order. For a Sunday, he was surprised how busy the place was, spotting a vacant two seater table near the window, he navigated through the crowd and plopped down. Putting his plate and mug down next to the Sunday edition of the local paper, he stretched his shoulders and let out a yawn.

Deep down he was all too aware he was going to have to get a job, mentally kicking himself at passing on the candle gig based on Oliver’s description of the comely proprietress. But, there was still another week before the commencement of classes, so he figured there was still plenty of time. Shrugging, he flipped open the front page of the paper skimming over the words without really reading them as he took a drink from his mug.

A woman appeared outside the window, back to him, wearing skin tight black Capri pants emphasizing the miraculous shape of her perfect ass, luxurious light brown chestnut colored hair bound back. Grinning, he leaned back to enjoy the view. When she turned, it was almost like something out of slow motion TV commercial, the woman was stunning. For a moment he thought they had made eye contact and then she was through the door and standing in the queue to order.

He tried to watch her without appearing to be an obvious gawker. When she turned from the counter, a cup and plate in hand, she started in his direction. He hastily flipped through the paper to get to the sports section.        

Stopping beside his table, “Pardon me?” she smiled, inquiring, “Is this seat taken?”

Looking up, Cam nodded, then realized his mistake, “No, wait, there’s no one sitting here,” he stammered. Up close she was even more breathtaking.

Smiling, she sat down and placed mug and plate with a fruit laden muffin on the table.

“What do we have there?” she inquired, incredibly deep dove grey eyes above the wily grin on her comely face as she pointed at the two pink colored bands adorning his wrist.

He chuckled, “While I would love to tell you these little trinkets are in support for the effort to defeat breast cancer, they’re really just tokens from a couple of the young ladies at the Omega Pi sorority,” he explained.

Reaching out, she traced a finger over the top of both bands simultaneously, “What’s your name handsome?” she inquired.

Swallowing hard, he forced a grin, “Cam Crawford,” he babbled.

“Ah, Sersei’s little brother, I know who you are,” she commented, looking up and favoring him with the ghost of a smile.

Grinning, he nodded, “That’s me, sorry, I don’t know your name,” he said.

“Allie,” she supplied, pausing and grinning.

“Allie?” he asked, nodding, “short for?”

“Short for Alessandra Wynn,” she shared.

“Holy crap,” he blurted, blinking, “You’re the current president of Omega Pi,” recognizing her name if not her face.

She chuckled and nodded. “It looks like two of our sisters have already laid claim to you,” she said, sliding her hand back across the table and picking up her muffin.

Grinning foolishly, he nodded.

Tearing the pastry in half, she broke off a small piece and put it in her mouth, “So I guess all you need now is lucky number three,” she said.

“Three?” he queried.

“Three is a powerful number, the Fates, the Furies, the Norns, even Christianity references the Holy Trinity and the three wise men, not to mention the threefold Goddess,” she said.

“Or my boy Russell Wilson,” Cam replied, naming the current owner of the number three Seahawk jersey.

Taking another small morsel into her mouth, she nodded slowly and smiled before swallowing. Slipping the thin strapped purse from her shoulder, she opened it and brought out a wrist band almost identical to the two he already wore, though this had her name impressed into it.

“You know what this means?” she asked, displaying the band to him.

“Lucky number three,” he replied, using her words and moving his arm closer to her so she could put it on.

“It means now and always you belong to Omega Pi and that you accept your position as a servant to the sisters,” she asserted.

“Only three? I thought the competition was to see who could,” he started, frowning and leaving his thought incomplete.

She smiled coyly and shook her head, “Anyone who acquires three,” she clarified, “But know if you accept this band, the circle will be complete,” she advised solemnly.

“Oh I accept it alright,” he declared unequivocally.

Raising a threaded eyebrow, she nodded approvingly, “Good,” she said sliding the band over his hand to join the others. “So mote it be,” she added.

Grinning Cam nodded.

“I guess we’ll see you tonight at the Omega Pi house then, say sevenish?” she said.

“I’ll be there,” he avowed.