Behind White House Doors

Chapter 2

Mara stood by her apartment's window, gazing out at the glowing lights of Washington, D.C. The city was alive beneath her, the steady hum of its nightlife echoing through the crisp night air. Her apartment, nestled high above it all, had always felt like a sanctuary—a place where she could find peace amidst the chaos of the world below. But tonight, it felt different. Tonight, the air was thick with possibility.

She had just received the call that would alter the course of her life—the kind of call that every young woman in politics dreamed of. Press Secretary to the President of the United States.

She had worked tirelessly for this. Spent countless nights attending policy briefings, networking with the power players of D.C., making a name for herself not through her family's wealth, but through her own determination. She had built herself into someone people respected—a woman who knew how to navigate the corridors of power with grace and tact.

But now, standing in the quiet of her apartment, Mara couldn't believe it. She could almost still hear Professor Grant's voice in her head, the gravity of his words sinking in even further with each passing second. She'd been offered a chance at the position. At twenty-five. She could be the youngest Press Secretary in history. It was everything she had dreamed of—and yet, it felt impossible.

She reached for her phone, sending a quick text to Emma.

"You won't believe it... I just got a call about a position at the White House. It's everything I've worked for."

Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, waiting for the response. She needed to talk to someone, needed to process all of this with someone who understood the weight of her ambition. Emma would understand. She always did.

The familiar buzz of her phone almost startled her, and she smiled when she saw Emma's response:

"WHAT?! No way! You've got to be kidding. Of course, you're going for it—girl, you've been made for that! I'll be right over. We're celebrating this tonight, whether you like it or not."

Mara let out a quiet laugh, feeling the tension in her shoulders begin to loosen. She tapped out a quick reply.

"Come over. Let's make this real."

By the time Emma arrived, Mara had already poured herself a glass of wine, the deep red liquid swirling lazily in the glass as she stared out at the city. She needed this moment. She needed to savor it, even though part of her was already thinking about the next steps, about what came after the excitement wore off. Emma's knock at the door brought her back to the present, and she moved to let her friend in.

Emma stepped inside, her radiant smile lighting up the room. Her long, fiery red hair was pulled back in a messy bun, strands escaping to frame her face, and her sharp eyes sparkled with uncontainable energy.

"Girl, I swear, you've always been this close to a big break, but now? This is it. The White House. I can't believe it!" Emma's voice was laced with excitement as she moved toward Mara, pulling her into a tight hug.

Mara laughed softly, allowing herself to relax into the embrace. "I can hardly believe it myself."

Emma stepped back, her eyes scanning Mara with an almost predatory curiosity. "You've worked your ass off for this, Mara. And I've been watching you—every step of the way. I knew you were destined for it."

Mara felt a small blush creep up her neck, but she kept her composure. "It's surreal, honestly. I don't know if I'm ready for it. I've dreamed of it for so long, but now that it's here..." Her voice trailed off, the weight of the moment still pressing on her.

Emma poured herself a glass of wine with a practiced hand, her eyes never leaving Mara. There was something about the way she was looking at her tonight, a quiet intensity that Mara couldn't quite place. They had always been close, but tonight felt different.

Emma raised her glass, her gaze holding steady. "We're celebrating this, no matter what. You've earned it."

The two women clinked their glasses, their smiles wide and genuine. They laughed and shared stories of Mara's long path to this moment—the late nights spent poring over policy documents, the trips to Capitol Hill, the cocktail parties where she'd shaken hands with politicians who would one day be her colleagues. Mara realized, in that moment, just how much she had accomplished. It was easy to forget when you were so focused on moving forward, on always being one step ahead. But tonight, she allowed herself to stop. To revel in it.

As the night wore on, the wine flowed more freely, the conversation shifting to lighter topics. But all the while, Emma's eyes lingered just a little too long on Mara, the glint in her gaze growing more mischievous by the second. Mara noticed, but for some reason, she didn't mind. She had always felt a certain magnetism with Emma—an undeniable connection that went beyond just friendship. But they'd never crossed that line.

"Alright," Emma said, setting her glass down. "I have to admit something."

Mara raised an eyebrow, half amused, half curious. "What is it?"

Emma leaned forward, her expression turning serious, almost conspiratorial. "I've known you for years, Mara. And I think—no, I know—you're a lesbian."

The words hit Mara like a sudden gust of wind, knocking the breath out of her. She froze, unable to react for a moment. Her mind raced. She had always been careful—never letting anyone get too close, never giving anyone a reason to question her. But Emma... Emma had always seen through her, hadn't she?

"I—what?" Mara stammered, her heart pounding. "How do you know that?"

Emma's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "Come on, Mara. You're a catch, and you've never once been interested in any guy I've ever seen you with. Don't tell me I'm the only one who's noticed. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I know. That I'm not going to judge you. In fact, I think it's kind of... hot."

Mara blinked, her mind still processing Emma's bluntness. She had always kept her feelings private, had built walls around her emotions, afraid of what might happen if she let someone in too far. But Emma? Emma was different. She wasn't afraid to push boundaries. She wasn't afraid of Mara.

Emma leaned in closer, her eyes now intense with something that felt more like an invitation than anything else. "I just wanted you to know that you don't have to hide who you are around me. You don't have to pretend, not with me."

Before Mara could respond, Emma reached up, her hand brushing against her cheek. The touch was light, almost tender, but the moment it lingered, Mara felt a spark of electricity course through her.

Emma's lips were suddenly on hers, warm and soft, testing, questioning. It wasn't an aggressive kiss—nothing like the ones Mara had seen in movies. It was gentle, almost tentative. But it carried weight. Emma was making sure Mara understood something that had been unspoken for a long time.

Mara's breath hitched, her heart racing, but she didn't pull away. She was surprised, yes, but not repelled. Her mind spun with confusion, with questions she hadn't been brave enough to ask herself until now. The kiss deepened for a moment before Emma pulled back, her eyes still searching Mara's face.

"I don't expect anything, Mara," Emma said softly, her voice laced with vulnerability. "I just wanted you to know that I know, and that I'm here. No judgment. Only understanding."

Mara's chest tightened as she absorbed Emma's words. The weight of the kiss still lingered, and Mara realized that the walls she had so carefully built around her heart had begun to crumble. Not entirely, not yet. But just a little bit.

"I... I don't know what to say," Mara whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Emma simply smiled, her expression warm and kind. "You don't have to say anything. Just know that I'm here, whenever you're ready."

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and half-spoken confessions. Mara didn't know what tomorrow would bring—she didn't know if this moment would mean anything at all. But for the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe—just maybe—there was more to life than climbing the political ladder.

For now, she was content to let the night unfold, savoring it as it came.