Tazara pulled up outside the café, halfway out of her car before catching herself. Her nerves flared as she sank back into the seat, pulling the mirror toward her. At first glance, she looked fine.
Just fine.
She needed to look better. She had to be better. This was the opportunity she'd been told to grab and never let go of, and it had been dropped into her lap. She quickly adjusted her hair, tucking a stray curl back into place, and swiped at her bottom lip to remove a smudge of gloss. Suddenly, her appearance felt like the least of her worries.
Grabbing her purse, she stepped out of the car and glanced toward the café. Half-expecting the woman to be standing right in front of her, she realized, with a pang of dread, that she had no clue what Claire looked like.
Shit.
Her eyes scanned the café windows, searching for someone who might fit the bill. They passed over the tables once, then again, before landing on a woman who was waving at her. She had a soft smile, her lips brushing against the rim of her coffee cup as she sipped.
For a moment, Tazara almost waved back but stopped herself. Be mature. Be professional. She thought of Samara and how effortlessly she seemed to command attention from their professors.
That's how you get noticed.
Squaring her shoulders,
'BE CALM BE CALM!' She ranted in her minds
Tazara walked inside, her steps measured. She greeted Claire politely and took a seat across from her. As she looked up, she couldn't help but notice how striking Claire was. Tazara preferred dating men, but damn, Claire made her heart race.
Claire seemed to catch Tazara's wandering gaze, a glint of amusement flickering in her eyes. Taking her time, she leaned back in her chair and sipped her coffee, letting her own gaze roam over Tazara. She liked what she saw—and judging by Tazara's slightly flustered expression, she figured getting what she needed out of her wouldn't be hard.
"So, Tazara," Claire began, breaking the silence as she leaned forward slightly. "How are you enjoying your law school classes at Howard? I've seen your name—along with another student's—as potential spot holders. I'm curious how you've found the curriculum so far."
Tazara stammered, her cheeks flushing. "I-I love my classes," she said, willing her voice to steady. "My friend Samara—she's the other student you mentioned—and I have been doing really well. We share a dorm and... we're ahead in most of our courses so far."
Claire nodded, her expression thoughtful as she sipped her coffee. "That's impressive. From what I've seen, you both are definitely ahead of the curve. And since you were personally offered these spots..." She tilted her head. "Why do you think Professor Harris chose the two of you specifically?"
Tazara's heart sank slightly, unsure how to make her answer sound normal.
'Quickly darling" She snapped though her expression unchanging
"Well," she began, carefully choosing her words,
"Professor Harris is close to Samara, and she's always been focused on putting us in positions where we can pursue our specific interests and goals."
Claire let out a quiet hum, nodding as her smile returned. Setting her cup down, she leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. "It sounds like Professor Harris has been an excellent mentor for Samara. I hope I can be just as effective for you."
Tazara's pulse quickened. Her gaze flickered away, and she tried to steady her breath.
Claire chuckled softly. "Relax," she said, her tone light. She finished her coffee, then stood. "Come on. Let's head to the office building. I'll show you where you'll be working and introduce you to the case you'll be starting with."
Tazara scrambled to her feet, nodding quickly as she followed Claire out of the café, her nerves still buzzing.
—
Samara stirred awake, her head pounding lightly, and a groan escaped her lips. She muttered to herself, "I've got to stop getting drunk around this woman…" Her body ached in that familiar way that brought a small, sly smile to her face despite her discomfort. Between her legs was sore, but she wasn't complaining, last night was worth it.
Reaching out groggily for her phone, her hand found something else instead. A neatly folded note. She frowned, pulling it closer to read:
Had to step out for work. Be back later. Make yourself at home.
PS. the cameras work – K
Samara tilted her head at the neat handwriting, a slight pout forming on her lips. But She wasn't about to let her mood sour after a night like that.
She slid out of bed, gathering her clothes and slipping them back on before stumbling down the stairs. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and her bare feet padding across the floor. She poured herself a glass of water but didn't feel hungry, not with as much as she's eaten.
Instead, she flopped onto the couch, flipping on the TV and settling in, letting her mind drift as the background noise filled the space.
An hour or so later, the sound of the front door unlocking jolted her. She turned to see Kamala entering, juggling an overwhelming stack of papers and folders. Samara shot up, rushing to her side.
"Let me help," she said quickly, taking half the stack from Kamala's arms.
"Thanks, baby," Kamala said, setting the rest down on the coffee table with a sigh. She dropped a small takeout bag next to them, then reached out, cupping Samara's face with one hand and kissing her deeply.
Samara grinned against her lips. "Good morning to you, too,"
Kamala chuckled as she pulled away.
"Brought food. Figured we'd eat and then get to work, though you might want a chance to dive into some real case materials."
Samara's eyebrows shot up, curiosity replacing her grogginess.
"Wait, you're serious? I get to work on an actual case right now?"
Kamala laughed, seeing the spark of eagerness light up Samara's expression.
"Of course. Here." She handed her a file from the pile, settling onto the couch.
Samara immediately plopped onto the floor, her legs crossed, leaning back against the couch as she flipped the folder open. Kamala smiled warmly, unpacking the food while sneaking glances at Samara's focused face.
"Don't forget to eat, baby," Kamala said, brushing a hand gently through Samara's hair.
Samara looked up briefly, a distracted smile tugging at her lips.
"In a minute. This is actually really interesting…"
Kamala leaned back, a quiet laugh escaping her as she watched Samara dive headfirst into the file.
She picked up her own meal, shaking her head.
-mid day-
Kamala took the last bite of her sandwich, glancing over at Samara as she read through another file, her face scrunched in concentration. The coffee table between them was cluttered with documents and food wrappers, and it was clear they were settling in for a long day.
"So," Kamala said, breaking the silence, "how about we discuss what we've read so far? It's a good way to process everything—and good practice for you to talk through cases. You'll need that skill if you're working with a partner someday."
Samara looked up, her lips quivering into a half-smile. "You mean like you?"
Kamala chuckled softly. "Maybe. Now, what do you have so far?"
Samara leaned back against the couch, setting her folder down.
"Okay, so the case is a suit being filed against Kaplan and Bridgette, alleging misconduct by one of their attorneys, Claire Washington." She paused for a sip of water.
"Apparently, Claire represented a client who was found not guilty, but the prosecution claims she didn't disclose a document that they're saying was basically a manifesto tied to the crime."
Kamala nodded, her expression neutral. "Go on."
"Well," Samara continued, "there's an issue with the timing. The prosecution didn't file an inquiry until after the window for reporting such claims had passed. So, honestly, it looks like they're just taking a cheap shot at the law firm. Trying to tarnish their reputation."
Kamala smiled, leaning forward with an approving nod. "Very good analysis, Sam.tjats exactly the stance the attorneys are going with…" she mused, it was scary that samara seemed to read her mind
Samara flushed at the praise, her grin widening as she straightened up.
"Thanks," she murmured. Then her expression shifted, a sly glint in her eye.
"You know… I think I've figured something out."
Kamala's eyes widened ever so slightly, a flicker of panic crossing her face. She quickly masked it with a casual sip of her drink.
"Oh? What's that?"
Samara tilted her head, watching Kamala closely. "You're acting funny."
Kamala stiffened. "Funny? What do you mean?"
Samara smirked, narrowing her eyes playfully.
"You're flustered, you don't get flustered, you 're an attorney, which makes me think you're hiding something. And I think I know what it is."
Kamala's heart skipped a beat, her mind racing.
Did Samara somehow know about the internship arrangement?
She forced a laugh, shaking her head.
"I'm not hiding anything, Sam."
Samara leaned in slightly, her smirk growing. "Mm-hmm. Sure, you're not."
Kamala looked down at the files, hoping to redirect the conversation.
"Let's stick to the case for now, okay? We've got a lot more to go through."
Samara sat her folder down and stood, stretching slightly before walking over to the couch.
Without hesitation, she sat down next to Kamala, leaning in close. Her breath was warm against Kamala's cheek as she locked eyes with her.
"You think I don't see what's happening here?" Samara said, her voice low but tinged with amusement.
Kamala blinked, trying to maintain her composure. "What are you talking about?"
Samara grinned, her gaze unwavering.
"You're using these internships to put me and Tazara against each other. It's clever, I'll give you that, but it won't work." She chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the tension in the room.
Kamala shook her head, her voice firm. "That's not true. I'd never do something like that."
Samara raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Oh, really? It's just a coincidence that Claire Washington-the attorney at Kaplan and Bridgette, is Tazara's mentor, and I'm stuck here with you, working on this case from the DA's office?"
Kamala opened her mouth to respond but faltered when Samara added,
"And where did you even get these files? You're not an active attorney anymore."
Kamala hesitated, her eyes darting to the papers on the table.
"Th-ey're from the DA's office," she finally admitted.
"I picked them up for you. They wanted you to get a head start on things?"
Samara's smirk widened, and she leaned in even closer.
"You sure you're not planning to kill me or something? You treat me way too good"
Kamala froze.
She didn't know what she wanted from this girl.
Samara was brilliant, undeniably useful, an asset in every sense of the word. But she was also stunning, and maddeningly good… in bed. Kamala found herself caught somewhere between the pull of love and the power she seemed to have. As Samara straddled her, their faces mere inches apart, Kamala's breath hitched. Samara's eyes burned with something fierce.
"I just want you to be the best version of yourself," Kamala said softly, her voice unsteady.
"I love you, Samara. That's all this is about." Though the word seemed hallow
Samara leaned in, taking amala's lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Her hands roamed, and for a moment, Kamala let herself get lost in the warmth of Samara's embrace.
But then she pulled back, gently placing a hand on Samara's shoulder.
"No," Kamala said, her voice firm but kind.
Samara frowned, confusion and disappointment flickering across her face.
"We can't," Kamala continued. "Not right now. We both have things we need to focus on, important things."
Samara sighed, her forehead resting against Kamala's. "You're no fun," she murmured, a teasing undertone in her voice.
Kamala chuckled softly, brushing her thumb along Samara's jawline. "Maybe not, but you'll thank me later."
Samara huffed playfully but climbed off Kamala, settling back onto the couch with a mischievous grin. "Fine. But you owe me later, professor."
Kamala cringed, picking up her files again, God it was moments like those that she'd forget how far samara was from her grasp.
Age.
Status.
Power.
Samara didn't know half of what Kamala knew, but she was eager to learn, easy to teach. Easy to hold.
"Get back to work, Samara."
"Yes, ma'am," Samara replied, her grin lingering as she grabbed her folder
—
Tazara sat stiffly around the long conference table, flanked by Sophie and Daniel, both of whom seemed far more at ease in their chairs. Across from them, Claire leaned back with a calm, calculated smile, the picture of control.
"So," Sophie began, her tone light and conversational,
"it's not going to be as intense as it might seem, or as Claire makes it sound sometimes." She smirked slightly, earning a small chuckle from Daniel.
"A lot of what you'll do as an intern is just contributing ideas, offering solutions, and, well, running off papers. Nothing too terrifying."
Tazara nodded, feeling a bit more at ease until Claire abruptly interjected.
"That's not all she'll be doing," Claire said, her voice smooth but firm. Her sharp eyes pinned Tazara in place.
"So don't look so concerned."
Tazara quickly tried to rearrange her features into something neutral as Claire continued.
"In fact," Claire said, leaning forward slightly, "Sophie and Daniel here will be working alongside you on this upcoming case."
Tazara's eyebrows shot up, her curiosity piqued.
Claire sighed, a flicker of something, annoyance, crossing her face.
"I hate to admit it, but I'm at the center of this one. Alleged misconduct. But let me assure you," she said, her voice dropping as if she were speaking directly to Tazara, "I'm a solid, law-abiding attorney."
Tazara noticed the slight hesitation, the way Claire swallowed hard before saying "law-abiding." It made her stomach tighten, but she quickly brushed it off.
"I'm a little nervous," Tazara admitted, her voice quieter now.
"I wasn't expecting my first actual court case to be something that could decide your career."
Claire's lips curled into a wry smile. "The stakes are high," she agreed. "If I'm found liable, my license could be taken away. No pressure, though."
Tazara's chest tightened, and her breath hitched slightly.
She squirmed under the weight of Claire's words as Daniel and Sophie exchanged amused glances, snickering softly.
Claire stood then, her movements slow and deliberate. Her half-lidded gaze never left Tazara as she walked around the table and placed a hand on her shoulder. The contact was light, but it made Tazara's entire body go rigid.
Claire perched herself on the edge of the table, leaning down until her face was mere inches from Tazara's. Her voice dropped to a near whisper.
"Don't worry yourself," she said, her tone low and laced with something Tazara couldn't quite place.
"You'll be ready when I need you. I know you will. Pretty, smart girls like you should know how to use that mouth...to make a point, that is, in court."
The last words came with a faint smirk as she lightly patted Tazara's cheek with the back of her hand before straightening up and leaving the conference room.
For a long moment, Tazara kept her eyes fixed on the table, her cheeks burning. She could still feel the ghost of Claire's hand against her skin, and it left her flustered and uncertain.
When she finally glanced up, Sophie and Daniel were both grinning at her, clearly amused.
"She really likes you," Sophie said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile.
Daniel chuckled, shaking his head.
"Yeah, when we were interns, there were three others besides us, Claire never treated anyone like that. You better watch your back...or, well, your skirt."
Sophie laughed, adding, "It's not like Claire seems interested in men or anyone else for that matter, except you."
The two of them stood, leaving the conference room with parting grins, their laughter trailing behind them.
Tazara remained seated, her gaze unfocused. The room felt oppressively quiet now, the weight of what had just happened sinking in. She wasn't sure whether to feel flattered, nervous, or outright terrified. For now, she simply stared at the empty table, unsure of what to do next.
—
Samara sat cross-legged on the floor, a sea of papers and files spread out around her. She had been quiet for the past hour, completely engrossed in the documents. Kamala reclined on the couch behind her, the television on but only half-watched. Instead, her eyes kept drifting back to Samara, who looked serene yet intense in her concentration. Kamala marveled silently. This girl might be more devoted than she cares to admit. It had been years since Kamala had set foot in a courtroom herself, yet watching Samara made her feel a faint longing. The precision, the focus, the fire; Samara made her want to step back into that world, if only to see her like this in action.
"All right," Kamala said, breaking the silence, "you've been at it long enough. What's your approach?"
Samara looked up, blinking as though pulled from another world. She took a moment to organize her thoughts, then sat up straighter.
"First, I'd bring up the issue of the untimely notice," she began confidently.
"The DA's office missed their window, and the law is clear about deadlines for these kinds of filings."
Kamala tilted her head, a faint smirk on her lips.
"Good point, but the judge has the discretion to continue the case anyway. They might place a strike on Claire's license instead of outright revoking it if they find her liable. The DA's mistake could save her, but it doesn't guarantee an automatic dismissal."
Samara frowned, considering this. "Then...we let the case play out. The risk is higher, but we might get a judge who sees the untimely notice for what it is and sides with us anyway because she didn't disclose all the evidence."
"Her client still gets to walk, Claire possibly gets fired, or Kaplan and Bridgette hangs the DA's office out to dry again…"
"Well…"
Kamala nodded, impressed. "Interesting gamble. But what else? There's more to this than just procedural deadlines."
Samara's brow furrowed as she shuffled through the papers.
"There is one thing..." She hesitated, holding up a section of the discovery. "The manifesto. Claire did add it to discovery, but not all of it. There are only ten pages, and the last one cuts off mid-sentence."
Kamala's eyebrows rose slightly. She leaned forward, her attention fixed on Samara now.
"You're sure about that?"
Samara nodded
"If we had originally caught this, it could be a huge problem for Claire now. But if we bring it up first,it gives us leverage."
"But what exactly is the goal to ruin her or what?"
"I don't know, but whatever your thing is good"For a moment, Kamala just stared at her, a slow smile spreading across her face.
"Good," Kamala said softly. "Very good."
Samara flushed under the praise, her eyes searching Kamala's for any sign of disapproval but finding none. Kamala reached down, her fingers brushing lightly against Samara's cheek. She caressed her face gently, almost like she was petting a favored companion.
"Look at you," Kamala murmured, her voice low and warm.
" You're going to be amazing in court one day." Kamala reveles in the idea of turning same day into the best she could be by all means
Samara tilted her head into Kamala's touch, her lips curving into a small smile.
"You really think so?"
"I know so, keep doing what you're doing and I'll make sure of it" Kamala said firmly, her hand lingering a moment longer before pulling away.
Samara's gaze lingered on Kamala's, a mix of gratitude and something else in her expression. For a brief moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the TV in the background.
Samara stretched, her focus breaking as she leaned back and let out a small groan.
"We've been at this for hours," she said, turning to Kamala with a sly smile. "Don't you think we deserve a break?"
Kamala raised an eyebrow but said nothing, watching as Samara stood and sauntered over to her.
Samara leaned down, resting her hands on the arm of the couch, her face inches from Kamala's.
"Come on, just a little break," she murmured, her voice dropping into a flirtatious tone.
"Samara..." Kamala warned, though her voice lacked its usual firmness.
Samara grinned, sensing her hesitation. "What? You're acting like this would be the first time we" She trailed off, her fingers lightly brushing Kamala's arm.
"We've done it before. Why not now, when we're both...clear-headed?"
Kamala stiffened, her heart pounding in a way that wasn't entirely pleasant. She caught Samara's wrist gently but firmly, pulling her hand away.
"I can't," Kamala said, her voice low but steady.
Samara blinked, confusion flickering in her eyes. "Why not? Did I do something wrong?"
Kamala shook her head, avoiding her gaze. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts jumbled. "It's not you. I just... I don't want you to feel used."
Samara tilted her head, her voice softening. "Should I?"
The question hit Kamala harder than she expected, making her stomach twist. She didn't answer, instead leaning forward and kissing Samara. She hoped it would be enough, that it would say what she couldn't put into words.
Stop Samara from asking.
At first, Samara kissed her back eagerly, her fingers tangling in Kamala's hair. But when Kamala pulled back, stopping before things could escalate, Samara frowned.
"What's going on?" she asked, frustration creeping into her voice. "Did I do something to upset you? Did I get something wrong?"
Kamala's mouth opened, but instead of an answer, she blurted, "You need to go home."
Samara blinked, stepping back. "What?"
"You need to go," Kamala repeated, standing abruptly and moving to gather Samara's things. Her movements were rushed, almost frantic.
"Pack up the files. I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Kamala, wait—"
But Kamala wasn't listening. She handed Samara her bag, practically ushering her toward the door.
Samara hesitated, her mind spinning. "Did I say something? Do something? Just tell me—"
"It's not you," Kamala cut in, her voice softening for a moment before hardening again. "Please, just... go.
Samara didn't argue further. As Kamala shut the door behind her, Samara stood on the porch, her mind racing.
What just happened?
By the time she climbed into her car and started the engine, she wasn't angry, just confused. She replayed the last hour in her head, searching for where things had gone wrong, but the answers stayed out of her reach as she drove back to the dorm.
—
It wasn't long since she'd left.
Kamala sat in the middle of her couch, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, staring blankly at the muted TV. Her chest felt constricted, each breath shallow and uneven. Her mind churned with a storm of emotions she couldn't name, couldn't categorize. She hated how her body felt out of control, as though the edges of reality were blurring.
Samara.
The thought of her sent a pain through Kamala's chest.
One moment, Samara was everything, bright, eager, full of potential. Kamala couldn't help but feel joy and admiration, an almost motherly pride mixed with something intoxicating.
But in the next moment, envy clawed at her insides. Samara was so sharp, so effortless. She picked up ideas and concepts like it was second nature, while Kamala had spent years clawing her way through doubt and obstacles to get to where she was.
She'd stolen something from someone, and she still had the tools she'd used.
Following her.
Within her reach.
To do it again.
Samara was thriving in a way Kamala hadn't at her age, and the closeness of it all, the way Kamala had placed herself at the center of Samara's growth, made her chest ache with jealousy and Self-hatred.
Kamala clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she stared at the files Samara had been working on.
She hadn't sent her away with all of them. Only the ones she knew Samara should focus on for the internship.
Abandoned on the coffee table.
These were things Kamala should have been studying herself, pouring over and strategizing as she had done countless times before. She was supposed to be the mentor, the guide. Instead, she was letting Samara do the work, reveling in how capable she was, while she sat back and felt her own insecurities fester.
Her own need to grow.
She let the thought of dependence, Samara blind obedience, be what she could use.
What she enjoyed.
She wasn't lying when she said she loved that girl.
She was only a girl compared to her.
Her mind flashed to their drunken nights together, the way boundaries blurred and torn down entirely. The first time, it had been questionable.
By the second, when things turned physical, it became undeniable—it was wrong.
Buying Samara that laptop, crossing into favors that felt more personal than professional… but that one truly is her fault. This internship. She could have easily put up for grabs to the whole class. But she'd chosen Samara, and used it to keep silent. Kamala buried her face in her hands. She had let this go too far. She'd let herself forget her job, her role, her responsibility. Samara now seemed to believe sex was a reward Kamala would give whenever she did well.
And it was.
The realization struck Kamala like a blow to the gut.
She had turned something meant to be a nurturing, professional relationship into something tangled, something dangerous. If anyone found out, if Samara ever spoke of it, Kamala could lose everything.
It would destroy samara, paint her as a pet, blind her talents.
Her teaching position, her license to practice law, her reputation.
She took a shaky breath, her mind racing. She couldn't let this continue. She couldn't allow her feelings, her envy, her admiration, or even her affection for Samara to cloud her judgment any longer. She had to untangle this mess before it destroyed them both.
Kamala leaned back, her head resting against the couch, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. For the first time in a long while, she felt entirely lost.
She wanted Samara.
But she couldn't have her. Not yet. Not like this.
—
Samara stormed into the dorm room, letting the door slam shut behind her. Tazara, perched cross-legged on her bed with a carton of Chinese food in one hand and a case file in the other, glanced up in surprise.
"Hey, how was last night with Kamala? Since, you know, you didn't come home," Tazara teased, grinning.
"Can it," Samara snapped bluntly, dropping her bag onto the floor.
Tazara raised an eyebrow but decided not to press. She watched as Samara flopped face-down onto her bed, burying her face in the pillow.
"Excited for your internship?" Tazara attempted after a moment of silence.
Samara didn't answer, and the room was filled with the faint rustle of Tazara's case files as she flipped a page.
"I'm working on a malpractice suit," Tazara started, trying to fill the awkward quiet. "The lady Claire Washington who's my supervisor is at the center of it, accused of—"
"Not disclosing a manifesto? I know all about it," Samara interrupted, her voice muffled by the pillow.
Tazara blinked. "How? Wait, don't tell me—"
"Yeah," Samara said flatly, rolling onto her side to face the wall. "Same case. Opposite sides."
Tazara sat up straighter, her tone immediately defensive.
"We are not sabotaging here, okay? We can keep things professional—"
"I don't care about that," Samara cut her off, her voice sharper than intended.
"I just want something to stay the same for once."
"Us, you're my friend, and I'm yours. No petty games."
The vulnerability in her tone made Tazara pause. She set her food down on the nightstand.
"What's going on, Sam?"
Samara sighed deeply, her voice trembling just slightly. "One moment, Kamala's all... caressing my face, being sweet, acting like I recited the entire Constitution to her. And then, when I actually wanted to do something, finally, when we were both sober—" She let out a bitter laugh.
"She clammed up and kicked me out."
Tazara blinked, stunned into silence.
"Samara you've along fucked her drunk?"
"Don't judge me okay! Please I wanted it so she didn't trick me or whatever you're thinking…"
Feeling exposed, Samara flipped onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
"Forget I said anything," she muttered, but her voice cracked.
"She... she asked me if I felt used."
Tazara leaned forward. "Do you?"
"I don't know," Samara admitted, her voice small. She closed her eyes, the words spilling out before she could stop them.
"I told her I loved her. And she said it back. But now I'm starting to wonder... Did she mean it? Did I?"
" No, you're right to ask if she meant it. Because you did."
"Liked she'd admit it, god I'm weak…"
"you know it. Go to sleep, we are going to this Christmas village thing tomorrow and then we're gonna smoke."