Presidential Pursuit: A Kamala Harris lesbian love story

Chapter 24

"Are you going to keep walking six feet away from me?"

"Yeah, actually. Pretend I have COVID," I snarked. 

We made our way down the steps of Air Force One, and I lingered behind her, just like I had since the beach, always keeping as much space between us as possible. Something definitely snapped in me. That "I don't know" hurt me in ways I couldn't even describe. Was it childish? Maybe. Did I care? No. Not at all. Plus, I was severely sleep-deprived. I pulled an all-nighter, and for God knows what reason, Kamala scheduled the flight so that we'd land and have to go straight into the office at nine.

"That's not funny, Emily," she remarked, turning her head to look up at me from the bottom of the stairs.

"To you," I quipped and continued descending.

Scoffing, she looked away and greeted the men awaiting her at the base with a salute. They began escorting her to the car, and a few stayed behind, realizing I wasn't making any attempt to keep up with her.

We both entered the vehicle, and I scooched myself as far away as humanly possible, nearly hugging the window seat opposite her. We rode in silence for the first twenty minutes. I was looking out the entire time, but I positioned my head perfectly to see her from my periphery if I wanted to. She was staring at me. Not consistently, but I could feel it. The air was heavy and uncomfortable, covered in a musk of contempt oozing from my pores mixed with whatever she was throwing into the atmosphere. During the last ten minutes, she tried to speak.

"Emily?" she asked softly with hesitation.

My body flinched slightly; my heart did the thing. It kind of dropped for a moment from the sudden broken silence but I ignored her.

Sighing through her nose, she turned to face the window, and a few minutes later, she tried again. This time, upping the ante. Her hands reached out as she spoke, aiming for my thighs. It reminded me of that first day in this same car; things were so different then. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Unfortunately, I still craved the touch I once welcomed. I didn't let her do it, but I was familiar with the warmth of her hands on me. This protest was on my terms, yes; I didn't want her to, but it still stung. I could feel the loss of a feeling that didn't even reach me.

"Emily, we have to tal—" she started, extending her arm until her fingers were inches from my skin.

"Don't touch me," I spat, not looking at her directly.

Her hand hesitated there for a moment, surely debating whether to follow through anyway, but she closed her fist and retracted it, settling it on her lap.

When we made it to the White House, I continued my defiance, furthering our distance even more and letting her take a significant lead ahead of me. Partly for all the obvious reasons, but also because we never arrived together in the mornings. I just thought that might look a little weird. And it's not part of it, not the point, like at all, but I was getting a great angle of her ass from back here. Just because I'm over her bullshit doesn't mean I can't appreciate the view.

When she turned the corner and was fully out of sight, I released a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Finally reaching the same turn, I was surprised to see Anika standing there, fully immersed in her phone. She didn't see me, so I walked past and behind her, waiting for my ambush.

I tapped her shoulder opposite to where I was standing, making her do that thing where you look behind you and no one's there. It's such a dad thing, but it always makes me laugh.

"Emily, you're back!"

Her enthusiasm made me giggle; it was cute, and I felt a little guilty for thinking that, but I brushed it off.