Presidential Pursuit: A Kamala Harris lesbian love story

Chapter 3

After what felt like hours of running around asking for directions to the Oval Office, I finally found myself face to face with the door again. I had probably been standing here for over five minutes, raising my hand to knock, then lowering it again, repeating the cycle.

Rushing here yesterday like a maniac, I was disappointed to find that the president had an emergency meeting and left for the day. There was a note on the door instructing me to be here first thing in the morning.

I'm already late.

"You're being ridiculous. This is literally your job," I think to myself.

For some reason, my heart is pounding. I haven't seen Kamala in three months. After today, I'll be seeing her regularly. My heart jumps at the thought of that. Still, it's the first time since I got here. I've always had a thing about firsts: first job, first kiss, first heartbreak. Those moments stick with you; it's poetic. I'm sure the novelty of being here will wear off eventually, like most things. Excitement never lasts. It's the tragedy of life. I'll get over this silly crush, and it'll just be a job—purely business. And yes, I said "crush." That's all it is. I've decided it's not a big deal and theres no point in denying it. A lot of people have a crush on their boss... right? Although not many people can say their boss is the freaking president of the United States. I just wish she wasn't so hot. And I wish I wasn't so gay. Terrible combination.

"I can do this." I take a deep breath and knock three times.

At first, I hear nothing, dreading the idea of having to knock again. Those knocks took all the courage I had in me. Then I hear a faint, "Come in."

Taking a deep breath, I turn the knob and step inside.

The room is a lot smaller than I imagined. I don't know what I thought the Oval Office would look like, but for some reason, I expected something grandiose—maybe twenty American flags and a bald eagle flying back and forth. Aside from its lack of corners, it's just an office.

Taking note of the room for a few moments, my eyes inevitably fall on the president. She looks stressed, rummaging through a pile of papers with a hand to her forehead. As I make my way toward the desk, she looks up, locking eyes with me. Her face softens.

Is she... relieved to see me?

"Emily, you made it." She smiles.

"I was starting to think I'd have to send the guards out looking for you."

That's the first time she's used my real name. "Good," I think. The whole "Miss Fields" thing makes my stomach feel weird.

I lower my head in embarrassment. "Sorry, I—I had a little trouble. They should really add some signs," I say half-jokingly. I'm a terrible navigator.

She lets out an easy laugh. It's music to my ears.

"How can I help you today, Madam President? You had a task for me?"

"Please, have a seat." She gestures to the chair on the left.

Weirdly, there isn't a seat directly facing the desk like in a regular office—just two chairs to the left and right. I guess it makes sense. Not ideal for me though. Proximity to this woman makes me noticeably weak.

I move around the desk and take a seat, clearing my throat lightly, hoping to ease whatever feeling keeps building up inside me with each passing second.

She watches my every move intently. Her gaze gradually travels up my legs until it meets my eye-line.

Ummm, what was that?!?

"Have you received the stipend I sent you? It should've arrived last night."

That caught me off guard. Not what I expected her to say.