Presidential Pursuit: A Kamala Harris lesbian love story

Chapter 12

The Freudian slip freaked me the fuck out. No, just a slip, there was nothing Freudian about it. I mean, seriously, where did that even come from??? I don't lov— I'm not even going to say it; I was in the heat of the moment, that's all. Leaving it at that. Regardless, it spooked me so much I did two things that week that were extremely out of character for me... well, three, but I'll explain.

The first one was that I took Sophia's advice. Something unheard of. I don't like being told what to do, and I hate to admit defeat, but the more I thought about it, the more I came to terms with the fact that maybe she had a point. I figured that the only reason those words even came close to leaving my lips were because I was utterly consumed by the Kamala dramala. For the last several months, my entire life has been Kamala this, Kamala that. I've been so distracted by the mere idea of having her that I didn't even stop to consider what that could mean for me in the long run. At this point, after everything we've been through, I kind of have her... right? It's not conventional, it's not consistent, it's by no means sustainable, moral, or healthy... but I have her. And now what? What happens if I actually catch feelings? What happens if that's already happened? I'm not a relationship girl, and this is not a relationship in any sense of the word, so why is it starting to feel like it? This thing between us has gone way beyond physical attraction. I care about her well-being, and that's not good. It was only once, but she trusted me with her feelings... she cried in my arms for God's sake, and I didn't even hesitate to try and fix it. Not good at all. I'm setting myself up for heart-wrenching, soul-crushing, agonizing failure. I've been channeling all of me into whatever the hell this thing's become, which is why I decided to try and put my energy into something else for once. Something I can love and not be mortified by the idea of it. Not that I love ka— whatever. You get the point.

"What exactly are you looking for, Miss?"

"...Uh, I have no idea," I said, walking down the aisle of animals on display.

"So... you want a pet, but you don't know what kind?"

The teenage girl looked at me like I had twelve heads and then laughed at my indecisiveness.

"Do you at least know if you want a reptile, a rodent, cat, bird, aquatic—"

"No, like I said, I have no clue; I just know I need something."

"...Need? Why do you—"

"Do you usually interrogate everyone who walks in here or just me?"

"Well... alrighty then, why don't you have a look around and let me know if anything jumps out at you?"

"Sure. Thanks."

The girl turned around and headed the other way. Something told me she rolled her eyes as she did it. I was being a little snippy, and the poor girl didn't deserve it, but I couldn't help it. I felt so... so... I don't even know; I just knew I had to reconfigure my brain, and fast.

I knew a dog was a terrible idea, too much responsibility. Anything small enough for a tank or a cage was not enough responsibility. I needed something that could reciprocate affection and not require so much attention at the same time, so I settled on a cat. Just enough.

I looked through the glass display at all the kittens jumping around and playing with each other. Some of them stopped to scratch the glass as I got closer. A few of them even tried to attack my finger through the barrier. Very cute, but I wasn't resonating with any of them. That was until I saw a little grey furball tucked away in the far left corner. It was a Russian blue, I knew that because I had one just like it as a kid. I felt bad for the little guy; it looked like it was isolating itself from the group on purpose, and something about it tugged at my heart. I knew exactly what that felt like.