Presidential Pursuit: A Kamala Harris lesbian love story

Chapter 11

My return to work was suspiciously easy for a girl who couldn't eat or shower for the previous two weeks. The talk and the unholy activities gave me some reassurance. I understood her a lot more. Not entirely, of course—she was full of mysteries, and there were still many things I had yet to understand about her. But it was easier for me to play the part and act professionally, knowing how she truly felt about us. Up until now, it was always a guessing game with Kamala's mood switches. It turns out the hot-and-cold game wasn't a game at all; it was just her being cautious, and that is something I could make sense of in my brain.

My little method for coping with it worked surprisingly well for us... at first.

Monday was my last day off. I took the time to tidy my apartment, which had accumulated cups of ramen noodles and random mugs of half-drunk coffee. Before going to sleep that night, I called Sophia and braced myself for the angry speech I knew was coming my way. As soon as the line connected, she started scolding me.

"Oh, look who decided I exist again! Emily, I swear to fucking God, next time you do something like that, I will beat your ass, and you know I'll do it."

"Hi, Sophia," I said defeatedly, with an exaggerated sigh.

"Don't 'hi Sophia' me; explain yourself."

"I—" she didn't let me finish and started rambling.

"Do you know how many times I called you? I was this close—THIS close—to calling the cops on you for a welfare check, and you're so lucky I didn't have your address. Which reminds me, why the hell are you not sharing your location anymore? This bitch moves to D.C. and thinks she's Hollywood. Share that shit right now, and why the fuck were you all over the news about an affair with the president? You'd think that would've come up during dinner. OMYGOD! Is that why you had all those hickeys?? Emmy, are you actually having an affair with Kamala Harris? Because what the actual fuck?? And also why—"

"OKAY SOPHIA! I GET IT!" I exclaimed, cutting her off while wiping a hand down my face. "I texted you..."

"Ummm, 'Hey, I'm fine, by the way, it's Emily' from a completely new number is barely a text. That might actually be worse."

"It's better than nothing."

"Okay, what about the rest? Is it true?"

I considered telling her the truth for a moment, but the trauma of being betrayed was still fresh in my heart. Sophia would never do me like that; she knows my deepest, darkest secrets, and she's more of a sister at this point. But still, I wasn't taking any chances. For my sake, and especially for Kamala's sake.

"No, not true; just Republican hearsay to make her look bad. You know how it is. Politics." I brushed off.

"Hmm, so who was the leech?"

"Just some girl from the bar, irrelevant."

She sighed deeply. "Okay...so why'd you go ghost? You could've told me all of this instead of making me worry for weeks. Not very nice."

"Sophia, my face was being plastered everywhere with everyone and their moms speculating and saying bullshit about me. I just needed a break."

"...fine, whatever, I'm still mad at you." She huffed.

"I'm sorry, Soph. I mean it; it won't happen again."

"It better not. You know I worry about you, Em. You're over there all alone, and now with your fath—" she stopped herself mid-sentence and then continued. "I just worry, okay?"

"I know. I love you; I appreciate it, and I'm sorry. Look, check your phone—location shared."

"If you do that shit again, I'm installing cameras in your house," she threatened.