A Classic Alpha for Christmas

by Shani Greene-Dowdell

“I’ll take a coke.”

  “Can we get the lady a coke?” I ask the bartender.

  “Coming right up!”

  “So, I work at Clark too,” she says to spark conversation again. “I’m in sports management.”

  “You like it?”

  “I do. What girl wouldn’t love a job where she’s surrounded by toned and sexy men all the time.” She laughs nervously. I don’t laugh at all. “It was a joke,” she says.

  I should have taken what she said lightly, but the thought of her being around other men makes me feel more possessive than I should right now.

  “My first job was at Auburn University, but I moved to Atlanta for more money and to get away from my mother,” she adds, and the same sadness I saw at Keith’s reception is back on her face. Something wavers in her eyes every time she mentions her mother. I want to know more about that but decide to leave it alone for now.

  “Is your family from Auburn?”

  “No, we’re from Lafayette. It’s a small town about twenty miles away from Auburn. Where are you from?”

  “Oh, I’m Atlanta born and raised. Dekalb County.”

  “Sometimes, I like being here. I just wish I had a helicopter so I can get through traffic in a decent time. The traffic is really my only complaint.”

  “I feel you on that one. Atlanta’s traffic is a beast.”

  “So, about this Christmas dinner…” She steers the conversation back to her primary concern, telling me about her mother, brothers and their families who will be at this Christmas dinner. She also tells me about her late father and how he was always there for her. “Mom wants me to find someone like my dad, but I know that’s going to be a hard job.”

  “He sounds like a respectable man, someone I would have liked to meet.”

  “You would have loved him. Everyone did. He dressed classy, like you.”

  “So, your pops had swag?”

  She laughs then pauses to swallow the lump in her throat. “He did. My mother had a little to do with that too. She made sure he was dressed in his best. She’s actually lovable when she wants to be. She’s just overbearing.”

  “They sound like quite the couple.”

  “Yeah.” Silence.

  “So tell me, who does your mother think I am?” I ask.

  “She thinks you’re the perfect guy who’s going to implant her grandbabies in me.” She laughs.

  “You told her that?”

  “Not exactly, but this is what she thinks. She also thinks we’ve been dating for four months and that you’re in love with me. You’re a professor at Clark University, and at least that part is true. Oh, and we’re considering marriage. She’s hoping for a proposal at Christmas dinner, but don’t worry about that. Once Christmas is over, I’ll tell her that we broke it off, so I don’t have to pretend anymore.”

  “What if I don’t want to break up after Christmas?” I ask. “You wouldn’t be pretending if we’re really dating.”

  “Omega.” She laughs.

  “I’m not joking.”

  “We’re not technically together, so we can’t break up for real. Remember, this is just for my mother’s sake.”

  “I’m going to your Christmas dinner to give you what you need at this moment. Be open to what develops between us though. It’s going to be more than what you think it is.”

  “O-okay.”

  “Also, I have a request. Are you ready?”

  “I think so.”

  “Spend every night with me until Christmas.”

  She smiles, and the tiny wrinkles on the side of her eyes let me know the smile has reached the windows of her soul. “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  She looks as if she is thinking my proposition over. It’s not iron clad. I will still go to dinner with her on Christmas if she says no, but hey, I shot my shot. Then, she bites down on her bottom lip, and says, “Yes.”

  Astalia then gives her stipulations of coming to my house. She tells me where she will sleep—not in my bed (lies), what we should wear—both fully clothed at all times (more lies), and there will be absolutely no kissing, flirting, or sex (so many lies).

  I don’t nod my agreement to anything she says. I don’t even acknowledge it, because I only deal in facts. “I’ll text you my address. See you tonight,” I say before helping her down from her seat and walking out to the lobby to meet up with Santerían and her cousin, Jayne, who have been waiting patiently for us to finish talking.

  Chapter Seven

  Astalia

  Big Talk

  December 15, 2019

  11:09 p.m.

  Standing outside of Omega’s door in the dead cold of Georgia winter, I’m ambivalent about knocking since I’m not even sure why I’m here. I have never done anything like this. I could be walking into the arms of a serial killer or the perfect gentleman I believe him to be, but the reason I move forward is the obligation to fulfill my end of the deal with Omega. And I have to do this, right?

  Yes, my internal thoughts answer loudly. Mom is expecting me to bring an Omega-like man home for Christmas, and I refuse to come home without him. I imagine the tirade of questions and arguments that would occur if I come home empty handed. If this was only a fair exchange, I would be fine with it, but I’m feeling something different, something more. Our conversation at the bar has me wanting to be near him again—to look at him, to smell him, to touch him. The hug we shared in the parking lot before we left Elite at 9:25 p.m. still lingers on me. I couldn’t have been more surprised when he pulled me into his arms’ embrace and told me he couldn’t wait to see me again. Remembering that moment warms me as I stand outside of his door.

  Jayne is probably still shocked from seeing me open up to Omega the way I did.

  When she dropped me off at home just a few hours earlier, she said, “That was not my Astalia I saw tonight, letting someone else in.”

  “It’s nothing, Jayne. We’re just two single people who’re going to spend some time together during the holidays. I told him what I needed and he agreed.” I tried to play it down, and I definitely didn’t tell her I was going to his house tonight.

  Jayne didn’t let me off that easily. “You don’t even understand what just happened between you and that man. You don't understand your power, do you? Did you see the look on his face? You just wrecked his strong, alpha looking ass. Now, it's time to finish the job. Change his world, sis. Make this a holiday he won't forget. It can be so much more than an arranged date,” she’d said when she pulled up to my house.

  “I can handle it, Jayne,” I said, getting out of her car. “Thank you for taking me out.”

  “Anytime, sis. Love you,” she said, then watched me until I was inside my apartment. I was glad she had to get back on the road, heading home. I, too, had something to do.

  I thought about Omega and the advice Jayne had given me as I packed my overnight bag.

  I’m usually guarded when it comes to men. Yet, something about him makes me comfortable, something completely out of the norm for me ever since Lewis took me through the pain we shared. I haven’t wanted to look for love again, but because of Mom’s persistence, I’m now standing outside of Omega’s apartment unsure about what will happen over the next ten days.

  When I finally get up the nerve to raise my hand to knock, the door opens. Omega is standing there wearing only a pair of gray jogging pants. His muscular chest is bare. Washboard abs lead down to a thicker-than-a-snicker imprint in his pants. It takes him speaking to me to bring my eyes back up to meet his.

  “I saw you pull up, and I’ve been waiting for you to make it to the door. Come on in.” He pulls me inside from the blistering weather and takes my bag out of my hand, walking over to the sofa to set it down. He then helps me out of my jacket and leads me into his living room, which is lit by a lamp and the fireplace. Charlie Brown’s Christmas CD is playing at a low volume. Two wine glasses are on the table. He doesn’t have any decorations up, but still, the entire sce
ne is infused with holiday romance.

  “You like Charlie Brown?” he asks.

  “I like jazz, and the Charlie Brown CD happens to have some of the best Christmas jazz music.” That’s not all I like, I think as I steal glances at the different places on him I would like to touch just so I will know this is happening right now. A part of me doesn’t believe it is.

  “Well, this is about the only thing that gets me into the Christmas spirit,” he admits. He sits on his brown leather sofa and reaches out a hand to me. “Come. Have a seat and relax.”

  I slowly walk toward him, feeling overdressed in my fitted jeans, red sweater, and stiletto knee-boots as the blazing fire from the fireplace reflects off his bare skin. It’s definitely an outfit for going out, not staying in.

  “Why do you want me to spend the night with you? Is it sex you want?” I ask straight out. I have to know what it is we’re doing here.

  “Yes, I want sex,” he says plainly. “But that’s not why I want you here.”

  “But one of your requirements for being my Christmas date is for me to spend every night with you. What do you expect out of me each night?”

  “As much as you want to give me.”

  “You don’t look like the kind of guy that has to make propositions for women to spend the night with you. You could have snapped your fingers and had a woman tonight. Why do this?”

  “I never said I couldn’t have another woman. I just don’t believe in spending my holidays with people that I’m not serious about.”

  “We just met. We’re not serious either.”

  “You’re what I need right now. Don’t ask me how I know; I just do.”

  “Tell me, Omega. What do you normally do with women when they spend the night with you?”

  “Is that a trick question?”

  “No, I really want to know.”

  “Well, I deal with three types of women. Category one is smash ‘em. Category two is date ‘em. Category three is wife her.”

  Just as I suspect, he’s most likely a dog.

  “And, let me guess. No woman has ever made it to the ‘wife her’ category.”

  “No.”

  “Just what I thought.”

  “Do you want to know what category you are in?”

  “I should be in the fake date category.” I chuckle. “I’m not in any of those categories.”

  “Oh, I’m going to date you. Then, I’m going to make you my wife,” he says with certainty in his brown eyes peering into mine. The way he stares at me has me rattled. He doesn’t mention smashing, and I should be pleased, but for some reason, it leaves me a little disappointed. Momentarily, I forget we’re two people who just learned each other’s names while speed dating.

  “Omega.” I shake my head to break free of the pull happening between us. “Don’t look at me like that?”

  “You’re going to be my wife. I knew it the first time I saw you outside of your cousin’s reception. Our chemistry is there. It’s in the way I feel when you look at me, your mannerisms, everything about you fits perfectly with me. Like I said, I can’t explain it.”

  I didn’t reply. How could I reply to a statement like that?

  “Just stay around long enough, and I’ll prove it to you,” he says.

  A part of me believes Omega is saying sugary things to get me in his bed. After all, isn’t that the point of me being here?

  “Tell me about your family,” I say to change the subject.

  “My mother, Joyce Ann Johnson, is as carefree as they come,” he begins. “She lets everything roll off her back. My father is a veteran. He doesn’t talk much, so he and my mother get along very well. Besides their love of vacationing and shopping, they enjoy doing home improvement projects.”

  “They sound like nice people.”

  “They really are. I’m close to both of them, though I haven’t been home in a while because I’m always working or thinking about work,” he says. “They gave me and my sister strong names. Her name is Alpharette, meaning ‘alpha girl,’ and of course, I’m Omega, which means ‘above all else.’ Together we are Alpha and Omega, and we’re here to leave our marks on the world.”

  I laugh. “You guys are a far stretch from my bunch.”

  “You have to get to know us, and you’ll like how chill my family is. We don’t like any type of drama; I think we’re allergic to it.”

  “I’m sure I will enjoy meeting them for Christmas as part of our deal,” I remind him. “On the other hand, you’re going to be ready to call it quits after you meet my family. I don’t know if you’ll make it through Christmas dinner.” I shake my head at the thought of everyone sitting around Mom’s table saying whatever comes to their mind.

  “Oh, Astalia, beautiful, I can handle your family. Besides, this is going to be more than a Christmas fling.”

  “I know my family. You’ll be eating those words in ten more days.” I laugh, but it’s painful to make humor out of something that bothers me deeply.

  “They’re the reason for your insecurities,” Omega states matter-of-factly. “Their expectations of you have dampened your spirit. I see what’s inside, waiting to come out, but you’re holding back because you’re worried about what your family will think of you.”

  “Hey, I’m not insecure,” I retort. “And my spirits are just fine.”

  “Well, tell me this. As beautiful as you are, why did you feel the need to tell your mother you’re involved with a fictitious man? Why not just date someone and build a genuine relationship, then tell your family about him?”

  “It’s not because I’m insecure. I know that I’m beautiful.”

  “Thank God you know that because you definitely are beautiful, Astalia. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. Still, that doesn’t answer my question. Why not just tell the truth about your relationship status?”

  “I love my mother so much. Since my father died, she has tied her happiness to mine. She pressures me to find someone to share my life with and to have children. She doesn’t want me to waste precious moments without a man. And, I want that, but the right one hasn’t come along.” I pause. I want to say, “before now,” but I refrain from trying to sound attached.

  “Before now…” he says for me.

  I smile. “Time will tell, Omega.”

  “It will.”

  “The men who usually approach me are college kids who’re younger than me and technically off limits. There are older men who are married or involved with someone. Oh, and men who I have absolutely nothing in common with approach me all the time. I’m not willing to settle for just anybody to say I have a man.”

  “So, you have a type?” he flexes his chest. “And, you’ve been waiting for me to walk up to you and sweep you away. I’m here, baby. I came for you.”

  I laugh. “Omega, all I want is to take you home for Christmas. We don’t have to do all of this back and forth about how you feel and how I feel. We just met. I need to go to my mother’s house, eat dinner, act like we’re in love and then leave.”

  I get ready to stand to walk away from him. I need space from his nearness and all of the questions he’s asking. It’s too much, too fast. However, he pulls me back to him, but this time onto his lap. Before I can protest, he has me swooped up into a kiss that makes my heart skip a beat. My eyes are opened wide as I stare at his closed ones. I can’t believe this is happening.

  Omega deepens the kiss, opening his mouth to let out a soul-stirring moan. The beautiful sound of his moans cancel my resistance. I stop fighting the losing battle, position myself to straddle him, and close my eyes and enjoy the taste of his heated mouth along with the feel of his erection pressing against my pussy. Wrapping my arms around his neck, my tongue duels with his, and my body moves against his, showing my desire. We’re both losers in this battle for passionate dominion over the other.

  Taken down by lust, my body is on fire, and I long for his touch as his hands glide into the back of my jeans to palm my ass. He murmurs, tellin
g me how good I feel on top of him. It’s been too long… No scratch that. I have never had a man say my name like this, touch me like this, kiss me like this. I can actually see myself falling, but thankfully, I have one shred of resistance in me left.

  “We have to stop this,” I say, pulling away reluctantly.

  “I can’t?” he asks, pulling me back to him. “Not now that I’ve tasted you. Mmmm.” He slowly sucks my bottom lip into his mouth. “What makes you want to stop?”

  “I don’t want to get hurt, and I can see in your eyes that you have hurt many feelings.” Due to the quivering in my voice, I’m almost unable to get the words out fully, but I do manage to tell him how I feel.

  Reluctantly, he slides me gently onto the sofa, eases away from me, and stands up. Walking over to the fireplace, he rubs his hand over his wavy hair. “What can I do to make you believe I won’t hurt you, Astalia?”

  “I’m really feeling you, feeling this, Omega. My body wants everything we were just about to do.”

  “But?”

  “I’m scared of this being a one night stand.”

  Omega walks back over to me and cradles my face with both hands, gently, lovingly. “If there’s one thing in this world you don’t ever have to fear, it’s me breaking your heart, Astalia, and I can show you better than I can tell you.”

  Before I can respond, he walks out of the living room into one of the back rooms. I figure he has left me alone for the night. I lean my head back on the sofa and let out a breath. When Omega walks back into the room, he’s wearing a shirt and his swollen erection has deflated. In his hand is a pack of cards. “Do you want to play a game?” he asks.

  Once again, I’m unable to read him. Is this a trick question, or will this be an innocent game of spades? Not knowing the answer, I reply, “Sure… but don’t be mad when I send you home to your mama crying for getting beat down in cards.”

  Omega throws his head back and chuckles hilariously like I hoped he would. The mood is light and breathable for a change, though his laugh is doing weird things to my insides that I can safely assume only his touch can sooth. Regretting stopping the making-out session that would’ve led to the bedroom if I hadn’t pulled back, I didn’t want to appear as if blowing hot and cold either. So with my hot and bothered meter in the red levels, I let him deal the cards and unleash his own brand of smack talk that lasts well into the night.