4

Friday came fast, and with it, the feeling of full-blown internal combustion.

Kamala Harris' office hours were from 2:00 to 4:00 pm. At exactly 1:56, I was standing outside her door, pretending to read a random flyer about an alumni mixer while not trying to throw up.

She hadn't done anything wrong. Not really. She had been polite. Professional. Firm. And yet, something about her presence turned me into absolute static.

I knocked lightly.

"Come in," her voice called, smooth like velvet over steel.

I pushed the door open.

Her office was minimal. Dark wood bookshelves lined one wall, full of political theory, legal texts, and what looked like three different biographies of Thurgood Marshall. A photo of her shaking hands with someone important sat on the desk, next to a neat stack of folders. She sat behind it, glasses on, reviewing something on her screen.

"Mariah," she said, not looking up. "You're early."

"Only by four minutes."

"Four minutes is a choice."

I swallowed and stepped in, closing the door behind me. The room felt warm, the kind of quiet where you can hear your own breath.

She finally looked up. And damn.

No glasses in class. But here? They made her look even more dangerous. Calculated. Sexy. Like she already knew what I was going to say before I said it.

"Have a seat," she said, nodding toward the chair across from her.

I sat, legs crossed at the ankle, hands in my lap like I was at church.She tilted her head, studying me like I was a case file.

"Tell me what you're thinking for your first essay."

I cleared my throat. "I was thinking of focusing on the intersection of race and gender in political campaigns—how Black women candidates are held to different standards."

She didn't react right away.

"That's a big topic."

"I know, I'd narrow it down."

"To who?"

"Maybe...Shirley Chisholm and Stacey Abram's? A comparative angle?"

Kamala leaned back in her chair, her arms folding across her chest. "Ambitious."

"Too ambitious?"

"No," she said, after a pause. "But sloppy execution will ruin it."

The words hit like a slap—except somehow I liked it. She didn't coddle me. She expected excellence, and it made me want to rise to it. Even if I hated that about myself.

"I can handle it," I said, trying to sound confident.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering. "You say that like you're trying to convince me."

My breath caught.

I didn't respond. I couldn't. Her tone wasn't seductive, not on purpose, but the way she said it—it curled around me, slow and quiet and dangerous.

"I just mean," I managed, "I want to prove I belong in your class."

Her gaze sharpened. "You do." Those two words sat heavy in the air.

"You're sharp. Articulate. But you overthink," she added. "You give me the right answers, but I want your mind. Not your performance."

I blinked. "Okay. I... I'll try to be more—real?"

"Try less," she said. "Be more."

The silence after that buzzed like electricity. She looked back at her computer, and just like that the spell broke.

"You can send me a proposal by Tuesday. I'll give feedback."

I stood, legs shaky.

"Thank you," I said, voice barely above a whisper.

Before I left, she added. "And Mariah?"I turned.

"Being nervous around me doesn't help either of us."

I blinked.

"I'm not—"

She raised one brow.I shut my mouth. And walked out before I could combust._____

Karina was already waiting in my apartment when I got home. She was halfway through a bag of Hot Cheetos, barefoot on my couch, flipping through some gossip blog on her phone.

"So," she said the second I closed the door. "How was it?"

I didn't answer. I dropped my bag, flopped face first into the cushions, I groaned into a throw pillow.

"That bad?"

"No," I mumbled. "Worse. But also better. But also... I don't know."

Karina laughed, climbing on top of my back like a gremlin. "Spill it. Tell me everything."

"She's so... intense," I said, rolling over so she'd fall off.

Karina grabbed her Cheetos like a baby. "Was it just you in there?"

"Just me. Just her. No witnesses."

"Ohh. Go on." "She told me I overthink. That I give her 'performance' instead of my mind."

Karina blinked. "Girl. That's either the sexiest academic critique I've ever heard or a therapy session."

"I think it's both." "What else?"

"She said she wants me to 'be more.'"

Karina looked at me like I'd been touched by a prophet. "Shes about to have to wrapped around her fingers... literally."

"I know."

"You're obsessed."

"I know."

She grinned. "And she knows."

That part made my stomach flip."She told me being nervous around her doesn't help either of us."

Karina screamed. Like, actually screamed.

"She knows!" She cried. "She knows she makes you nervous and she likes it!"

"She doesn't like it," I insisted. "She was just being... her. Calm. Cool. Unbothered."

"She's probably reading your body language like it's a novel.""Shut up."

Karina took a long, thoughtful sip of her soda."Mariah?"

"What?"

"Don't fall in love with her."

I groaned. "Too late." _________

Wink wink 😼