Cam

CAM

"I'M PUTTING YOU in the section by the bar," My boss informed me as I entered the kitchen of the no-frills family pub through the back to start my shift. She was the take-no-shit kind of middle-aged, with a perpetual smoker's rasp that she'd probably had since birth. "We're packed because of the parade so you should do pretty good on tips."

"Thanks, Sharee," I said as I tied my pocketed apron on over my work uniform, simple fitted black pants and a tidy black shirt. Good tips were always welcome, and often desperately needed.

I quickly glanced over myself in the mirror to make sure there wasn't anything glaringly wrong before emerging out into the front. I was a little thin from too many skipped meals and I needed a haircut, the longer strands of my bangs hanging around my cheekbones when I forgot to brush them aside. A smudge of dark under my eyes announced to the world that I wasn't getting much sleep these days, but the restaurant wasn't all that well-lit anyway.

"Morning, Cam!" A friend of mine and a waitress at the restaurant, Hana Suzuki called out to me from across the kitchen. She gave me a little wave as she applied another layer of shiny lip gloss. She was my age, 22, and really pretty, with long, black hair parted in the middle and tied back into two thick pigtails. "How's life treating you?"

"Same old, same old," I replied, but I was grateful for her companionship. She was basically the only real friend I had these days, having left my middle of nowhere hometown a few years back to end up completely clueless in the big city.

"How's Ty?" She asked, as we made our way out to the front.

"Pretty good. First grade is the big new adventure."

"He's so cute," she sighed dreamily. "It almost makes me want one. Almost," she added quickly. "No offense."

"None taken." It's not like I was under the impression that anyone dreamed of getting accidentally knocked up like I had so stupidly done. And in any case, she'd have to say a hell of a lot more than that to offend me. Hana was one of the only people I'd met since moving to the city that had actually helped me, and that I actually liked. Not to mention she'd babysat Ty a few times when I'd had absolutely no other options, and he adored her. "How are you?"

"Last night I went on a date with that guy I told you I've been texting," she said. The roll of her dark eyes made it obvious it hadn't gone well. "Total nightmare. I'll tell you about it later."

"Okay," I agreed. I was more or less living vicariously through her in terms of dates and romance, but I didn't mind. I loved drama, as long as it didn't involve me.

When I opened the door to the front of the house just a little crack to get an idea of what we were working with, I saw that Sharee hadn't been exaggerating in the slightest. We were packed to the brim with people wanting a quick bite before the main festivities of the parade and festival started. Hana stepped out before me, but before she could get more than two steps out, I watched her jaw drop as she stared over toward the bar. She immediately whirled around on her heel and charged back into the kitchen area where I was standing.

"Oh. My. God!" She hissed out, like each word was its own sentence.

"Yeah, it's crowded," I said. But I didn't mind. More tables meant more tips.

"No, not that!" She denied, shaking her head. "Do you know who's sitting out there right now?"

"No." How could I possibly have known that, when I hadn't gone into the room?

"I swear I am literally not joking, but Karter Morrison is sitting over by the bar."

"Oh. Is he a… Movie star?" It was a guess, but admittedly not a great one. What would a movie star be doing in our little hole in the wall? But pop culture wasn't exactly my strong suit. I could tell you which villain the Epic Power Squad defeated in last week's episode, but probably not what songs or films were topping the charts at the moment.

"Oh, Cam." She gave a sigh at my ignorance. "Karter Morrison is the heir to Morrison Beauty! His mom owns it!" When I only stared, she whipped the tube of lip gloss back out of her pocket and held it in front of my eyes. The brand on the label was Morrison Beauty. "They're an amazing lifestyle brand. I'm totally obsessed. I just bought a bikini from them, too!"

Hana was big on fashion and skincare and that kind of thing, which was good for her, because she looked great. And it wasn't that strange anymore for guys, especially omegas, to play around with makeup and stuff like that, but I couldn't afford it even if I'd had any interest. And anyway, who would I be getting all dolled up for? Ty?

"Wait!" She suddenly realized. "You're working the section by the bar, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Oh, great. I would have to wait on some self-important asshole. Why was he even eating here anyway?

"You have to tell me absolutely everything he says."

"I'm pretty sure he's just going to order a drink and some food like everyone else," I said. Her hype around this guy was starting to make me a little nervous.

"Okay, sure, but if he says anything else," she asserted. "Promise me."

"Yeah, okay." I agreed to her terms only because there was no way this random rich guy was going to be sharing any deep, dark secrets with me so what did it matter, anyway? "I promise."

As we made our way out and I made my way over to my section, I had to remind myself that this was the same old place I'd been working for over a year, with laminated menus and framed photos from local events and newspaper articles on the walls. There was nothing scary about taking orders from some snobby business executive, no matter how important Hana seemed to think he was.

But when I got over there, I changed my mind and half-decided waiting tables was maybe one of the stupidest decisions I'd ever made in my life.

The alpha from the café, apparently also known as Karter Morrison, stared up at me. He looked blindsided, like I felt, for maybe half a second before what I could only describe as a delighted smirk carved itself across his ridiculously handsome face. His eyes flickered down to my name tag before moving back up to my face, where his stare once again rendered me pretty much useless.

Hi, I'm Cam. I'll be taking care of you today. Can I get you started with some drinks?

It wasn't exactly rocket science, and taking orders was something I felt I could do in my sleep now. But as heat spread all over me, starting in my cheeks and bleeding down the rest of my body, I could barely get the words out.

There was a woman sitting across from him, with a tape recorder and a little notepad she was scribbling into. Was she interviewing him? My pathetic, stuttering attempt at asking for their drink orders alerted her, and she looked up, giving me a strange expression. Karter, however, acted like he didn't notice.

"Is there anything you recommend, Cameron ?" I'd introduced myself as Cam, but my name tag said Cameron. Still, pretty much no one called me that.

The sound of my name in his voice went into my ears and straight down to my crotch. It was like he was giving me an order, something meant only for me to hear and obey. This guy definitely missed the memo about biological warfare being considered barbaric or whatever, because my biology was pretty much demanding that I submit to him. Even if we were in a crowded restaurant that also happened to be my job.

"I, um…" What was the question again? "I would probably get an iced tea or a lemonade, since it's so hot out," I finally said. It was laughable to reference the heat outside, when I was sure the inner core of my body had to be above any temperature ever recorded in human history.

"Tea sounds great," he said. "I'm parched."

"I'll take an iced tea, too," the lady across from him said.

"I'll just go put these in for you and come right back," I sped out, rushing back into the kitchen. I zoomed past the drink station, and into the employee restroom to splash cold water on my face.

What was wrong with me? I saw handsome alphas on pretty much a daily basis. Some of them even flirted with me. It never affected me like this. What was it about this alpha that had my brain shutting off and my stomach pitching and… Oh, god. That very distinct sensation that only omegas could know. Slick.

Mortified, and feeling like the protagonist in some cliché porno, I ducked into a stall to clean myself up as quickly as I could, praying no one would come in and suspect anything. How could I be so turned on? Until now, I'd been pretty sure this kind of longing wasn't encoded into my DNA. I'd seen it in movies and heard stories, but I'd never experienced it for myself. And honestly, I wasn't really a big fan. This was torture.

After scrubbing my hands with soap and water in the sink and taking several deep breaths, I emerged to pour the drinks and arrange a few lemon wedges on a little saucer before bringing them out.

When they declined any food, I left them to it, only coming back to refill their cups when I noticed they were low. I considered it a personal victory when I was able to mostly avoid eye contact with him, but the feeling of his eyes burrowing into me was unavoidable. I hoped my other tables couldn't tell how nervous and distracted I was as I interacted with them.

When the interviewer woman at the table finally asked for a check, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. It was finally over. The second I was finished running her card and returning it to her, I told them to have a great day and booked it out of there.

"Sharee, I'm taking a break!" I called out towards the back of the kitchen, the general area I knew she'd be hovering, but I also knew she wouldn't mind. She was a fair boss, even though she could be a bit harsh with her words at times. Slipping through the door in the back out to an alleyway with dumpsters, I sank down onto a concrete step, covering my eyes with my palms. Could this day get any weirder?