Freshly brewed coffee and sizzling eggs filled the air as Samara came down the stairs, her steps slow and deliberate. Kamala stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with ease, her focus momentarily breaking as she heard Samara's faint footsteps in the hallway.
Kamala turned, a warm smile spreading across her face as she wiped her hands on a dish towel.
"Good morning. I was just about to call you down. Come, have breakfast with me."
Samara hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
"Thanks, but I should really head back," she said quickly, her voice quieter than usual.
"I, uh… need to buy a new laptop. I went outside after everything and found mine. It's broken."
Kamala's smile faded slightly, her gaze softening as she studied Samara's face. The dark circles under her eyes and her tense posture didn't escape her notice, but she decided not to comment. Instead, she stepped toward her, her movements slow and deliberate.
"Let me see," Kamala said gently, extending a hand.
Samara flinched, taking a half-step back. The reaction was quick, but Kamala caught it, her expression briefly flickering with something between concern and guilt. She held up her hands in a gesture of reassurance.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Kamala said softly, her weary smile attempting to ease the tension.
"Just let me take a look."
Reluctantly, Samara handed over the damaged laptop. Kamala opened it carefully, the broken screen flickering faintly, and frowned as she ran her fingers over the missing keys.
"Damn…" Kamala muttered, closing it gently.
She looked back up at Samara, her voice firm yet kind.
"I'll buy you a new one. Don't argue, it's the least I can do after last night."
Samara shook her head. "You really don't have to. I can handle it myself—"
"I insist," Kamala interrupted, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
"Besides, if I replace it, you'll have a reason to come back." she said
The corners of Samara's mouth lifted slightly in a half-smile, but her eyes remained guarded. "Thank you," she murmured, unsure of what else to say.
Kamala nodded, setting the broken laptop on the table beside her. She leaned against it for a moment before asking, "there's class today, correct?"
Samara hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Well I would think so unless you're canceling? You're my professor, after all."
For a moment, Kamala's confident demeanor faltered, her posture stiffening as realization dawned.
"Right… no class today!" she said quickly, recovering with a faint laugh. "I figure it's the least I can do, and I'm sure the others won't complain about an unexpected day off."
Samara tilted her head slightly, an amused smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks, Professor," she said, the title carrying a playful edge.
"Don't mention it, baby" Kamala replied, her voice tinged with sincerity.
Samara slipped on her shoes and grabbed her jacket from the entryway. She hesitated at the door, glancing back at Kamala, who was now tidying up the counter. "See you around," she said softly.
Kamala looked up, offering a nod. "Drive safe"
As Samara stepped outside, the cold morning air nipped at her skin, but her mind was elsewhere. Her thoughts raced as she walked to her car, the events of the past twelve hours playing on a loop.
Sliding into the driver's seat, she gripped the steering wheel tightly, letting out a shaky breath. Something about Kamala's didn't add up, and it left an unsettling knot in her stomach.
Kamala sat alone at the dining table, the remnants of breakfast scattered around her. The stillness of the house pressed against her, worsening thoughts in her mind. She absently pushed a piece of pancake around her plate, her appetite long gone.
Her thoughts drifted back to the night before, to the way Samara had kissed her, soft and urgent.
She said she wanted me, Kamala thought.
For a moment, joy had consumed her, an overwhelming warmth she hadn't felt in years. But it was quickly replaced by guilt. Samara had been drunk, her inhibitions melted away by the alcohol. Kamala sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead.
"I shouldn't have let it go that far," she muttered under her breath.
It had been foolish, reckless, even. Her own obsession, her longing for someone vibrant like Samara, had clouded her better judgment.
And then there was the gun. Kamala winced, recalling the way Samara had scrambled away in panic.
She probably thinks I'm insane, she thought bitterly, the memory tightening her chest. She had only wanted to protect herself, but she'd scared Samara in the process.
When Samara had asked for more details, Kamala had shut her down. She sighed again and threw her fork onto the plate with a soft clatter, cradling her head in her hands.
I need to do something, she thought.
She would replace Samara's laptop—no question about it. She would give her the internship she'd need, it would set her up. But how much longer could Kamala keep giving Samara things to make up for her mistakes?
"This is going to land me in the dean's office," she muttered, half-joking but fully aware of the truth. Worse, it could cost her license or her career.
With that thought, Kamala stood, her movements brisk as she began cleaning up the table. She couldn't wallow in self-pity forever. Once the dishes were done and the counters wiped down, she grabbed her coat and keys, readying herself to leave.
There was a tech store downtown, she'd pick up the best laptop they had, no expense spared. Maybe it was an overcorrection, but Kamala didn't care. She just needed to find a way to fix things.
As she locked the door behind her, she exhaled deeply, steeling herself for the day ahead. Samara deserved better, and Kamala was determined to give it to her—even if it meant risking more than she was ready to admit.
—
Samara pushed the door open to her dorm and immediately spotted Tazara sprawled across her bed, her laptop perched on her legs. A pair of headphones hung loosely around her neck as she typed furiously. She barely glanced up when Samara walked in.
"Well, well, look who's alive," Tazara said, her voice dripping with amusement.
"Thought you might still be passed out somewhere, embarrassing. Let me guess, you ended up…" She paused dramatically, grinning. " fucking someone?"
Samara froze mid-step, her face heating up. She avoided Tazara's eyes and busied herself with hanging her jacket on the back of her chair. "Don't be ridiculous," she mumbled.
Tazara didn't miss a beat, sitting up and narrowing her eyes. "Oh my God." Her grin widened. "You did!"
"No!" Samara shot back, a little too quickly. She turned her back to her roommate, her cheeks blazing as she started fussing with her bag.
Tazara's laughter erupted like fireworks, loud and uncontrollable. "Holy shit! You actually slept with her, didn't you? You're not denying it hard enough!"
"I didn't!" Samara whirled around, shaking her head furiously. "We kissed, okay? That's it!" She hesitated, her face crumbling into an embarrassed grimace. "Then I saw a gun lying on the bed and I panicked, so I ran."
Tazara gasped between laughs, clutching her stomach. "A gun? Oh my God, was she going to kill you? Or—" She waved her hand, barely able to contain herself, "—do something kinky with it?"
"Stop! It's not funny," Samara said, crossing her arms. Her face burned as she avoided Tazara's teasing gaze.
Tazara wiped tears from her eyes, trying to catch her breath. "Okay, okay, but why was there a gun? Is she secretly part of some crime ring or something?"
"How would I know?" Samara snapped, though her tone softened as she added, "She started acting weird after I freaked out, and I didn't get any sleep because I kept imagining all the worst-case scenarios."
Tazara snorted. "You're such a drama queen." She leaned back, grinning. "But seriously, you climbed into her bed, made a move, then bolted when shit got freaky. You're supposed to hold it down, sista!"
Samara groaned and flopped onto her own bed, burying her face in her hands. "Fine! Yes, I did. Are you happy now?"
Tazara raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Wait, how did you know I climbed in her bed?"
"Babe, you've done the same thing to me before. I know your drunk habits."
Samara peeked out from between her fingers, mortified. "I have not."
"Sure," Tazara laughed.
"Wait where;' our laptop?", "Was not the whole reason you went over there?
"I run after I saw the gun and tried to climb her fence, I dropped my laptop, it broke, then I fell into a bush"
"And let me guess Kamala's buying you a new laptop to make up for the fact that you got wasted, ran out of her house, and fell into a bush."
Samara groaned louder. "How do you know these things?"
Tazara shrugged. "I'm your roommate. And she seems to lie, giving you shit. BUT I'M NOT COMPLAINING IF HE'S SERIOUS ABOUT THAT INTERNSHIP" She shook her head, still grinning.
"But damn, Samara, next time you climb into someone's bed, maybe pick someone without a gun."
"YOU ACT LIKE I KNEW!"
—
Kamala stood in the electronics store, staring at the rows of laptops before her. Her fingers hovered over one that was nearly identical to Samara's old one. It was practical, reliable, and, most importantly, familiar. She reached for it but hesitated, her eyes shifting to the higher end laptops displayed nearby.
Her thoughts raced.
Samara deserved better.
Not just a replacement, but an upgrade, something that would show Kamala's genuine want to make amends. She walked over to another, stopping to read its price. "12 hundred…" she muttered, glancing at the tag.
But she didn't flinch.
She gestured to a nearby associate.
"I'll take this one," she said, her tone resolute.
"And can you transfer everything from this old thing, to the new one? " she added, pulling the broken laptop's storage from her bag.
The associate nodded, assuring her it would only take a short while. As Kamala waited, she paced, her mind drifting to the internship folder sitting on her desk. She had promised Samara and Tazara both the opportunity, but how much of this was too much?
Was she overstepping?
Once the data transfer was complete, Kamala paid and left the store, the expensive laptop neatly tucked into a bag. She drove home, her thoughts tangled. As soon as she walked into her house, she set the laptop down and retrieved the internship folder. Sitting at her dining table, she opened it, scanning the requirements and tasks she'd be assigning while they'd be there.
Her lips pursed. Will this help her or complicate things even more?
After a long moment, Kamala picked up her phone and dialed.
---
Samara sat cross-legged on her bed, picking at a sandwich from the campus café. The taste was fine, but her nerves were all over the place. Across the room, Tazara was lounging on her bed, scrolling through her phone.
The vibration of Samara's phone startled her, and she fumbled it onto her lap. Kamala's name lit up the screen. Her heart leapt into her throat.
"Oh my God," she whispered, eyes wide. "What do I do?"
Tazara looked up, smirking. "Uh, maybe answer it? She's probably not calling to tell you she's got another gun."
Samara shot her a glare but hesitated. After another ring, Tazara waved her hand impatiently. "Girl, just pick it up. You'll make it worse if you don't."
Taking a deep breath, Samara swiped to answer. "H-Hello?"
Kamala's cheerful voice poured through the speaker like sunlight.
"Hey, Samara! I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."
Samara's stomach flipped.
"N-no, not at all," she stammered, glancing at Tazara, who was grinning ear to ear. "What's up?"
"I just wanted to check in and see if I'm doing alright after night?" Kamala said warmly.
"— yeah, I'm a little hungover but ill make it"
"That's good, but I have something I'd like to talk to you about. Specifically, the internship we discussed."
Samara's fingers tightened around the phone. "Uh, yeah, I'm not doing anything," she said cautiously. "What internship are you talking about??"
"Oh right! You were drunk, HA! I've got two different internships I offered you and tazara last night, if both of you are free?" Kamala said.
"And there's something I think you'll be excited about. Are you two free to meet in my office this afternoon?"
Samara glanced at Tazara, who mouthed, What's she saying?
"I… yeah, we can stop by," Samara finally replied.
"Great! I'll see you both around 3, then. Take care," Kamala said before hanging up.
Samara let the phone fall onto her bed, her pulse racing. "She wants to meet about the internships" she mumbled, still staring at the phone.
Tazara raised an eyebrow.
"Wow, she's really going all out for you. A new laptop and a fast-track internship? You must've left one hell of an impression." Tazara joked as Samara rolled her eyes
"As if you aren't getting one too, you're coming to the meeting too?"
"And I ain't complaining! But I'm not ht one who's fucking their professor"
Samara groaned, grabbing a pillow and burying her face in it. "I'm going to die."
Tazara laughed. "Oh, you're fine. Just don't climb into her bed again, and you'll survive."
"FUCK YOU!" Samara barked as she took one of her pillows and flung it at Tazara
—
They made their way across campus, bundled against the chill, as they joked to pass the time. The brisk walk helped ease some of Samara's nerves, though not entirely. By the time they arrived at Kamala's office, she was fidgeting, her fingers brushing over the straps of her bag.
When they got there, Kamala wasn't in yet. They stepped inside and took seats, the small office cozy with its neatly organized shelves and a faint scent of citrus lingering in the air.
After a moment, Tazara glanced at Samara, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. "So, this is where the magic happens, huh?"
Samara groaned, but couldn't help laughing. "Shut up."
Tazara got up, walking around the desk.
"Professor Harris, oh no, my grades!" she said in an exaggerated, breathy tone, leaning over the desk dramatically.
Samara snorted, doubling over. "You're ridiculous!"
Tazara shot her a smirk and slid down the desk with mock seduction, flipping her hair. "Is there anything I can do for extra credit?"
Samara couldn't resist joining in. She hopped up and perched on the desk, crossing her legs and mimicking Kamala's composed demeanor. "Well, Tazara, I might be able to offer you something… but you'll have to work for it."
They both broke into laughter, trading over-the-top lines.
"Oh, Professor Harris," Tazara teased, pretending to swoon, "please, teach me about that Pythagorean thrust!"
Samara cackled, slapping the desk. "Not the thrust!" she howled, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
Tazara pointed dramatically. " Theorem!?"
The door suddenly creaked open, and both girls froze mid-laugh, their expressions transforming into awkward grins. They scrambled off the desk, straightening their clothes and brushing their hair back in an attempt to look composed.
"Good afternoon," Kamala said brightly as she stepped in, a wry smile tugging at her lips.
"Hi, Professor Harris," they said in unison, their voices overly sweet and strained.
Kamala turned to hang her jacket on the coat rack by the door. She set her bag down on the table, her movements calm and precise.
Neither Samara nor Tazara noticed the faint flicker of amusement in her expression as she faced away from them.
Kamala had been standing just outside the door for a solid minute, stifling her laughter as she listened to their antics. She couldn't deny it was entertaining, and flattering in a strange way, maybe she and Samara should have a talk alone in there some time, she couldn't help but think…
As she sat down behind the desk, her lips twitched with suppressed laughter. "You two seem… lively today," she remarked, her tone light.
Samara and Tazara exchanged a quick glance, then looked back at Kamala, their awkward smiles widening.
"Oh, just excited about the internship!" Tazara said quickly, elbowing Samara for backup.
"Yeah, super excited," Samara echoed, nodding furiously.
Kamala arched an eyebrow, her smile softening. "Well, I hope you'll find that I have to talk about half as interesting as your pre-meeting discussions," she said smoothly, folding her hands on the desk.
Samara's face burned, and Tazara barely managed to keep her laughter in check.
Kamala's eyes twinkled as she shifted her attention to the folder in front of her. "Let's get started, shall we?"
Kamala opened the folder, her composure practiced and calm as she turned to Tazara.
"Let's start with you," she began, her voice steady. "I've got a placement I think you might like. It's with Kaplan and Bridgett, an excellent firm. They're offering a paid internship, and you'd be working under Claire Washington… "
Kamala's voice faltered slightly as she said the name. Her smile wavered, and she blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear a sudden fog in her mind. A visible tension gripped her shoulders, and her fingers twitched ever so slightly before she clasped her hands tighter together.
Samara and Tazara exchanged a quick glance, both noticing the change in Kamala's demeanor.
Kamala inhaled sharply, forcing her composure back into place.
"Claire is a senior partner there," she continued, though her voice had a strained edge to it.
"She's brilliant, and her team handles high-profile corporate cases. You'd gain invaluable experience."
Tazara nodded slowly, though her eyes lingered on Kamala, puzzled by the sudden shift. "Sounds great," she said carefully.
Kamala offered a tight smile and turned to Samara, eager to move on.
"As for you, Samara," she said, regaining some of her usual confidence, "I've got something different in mind. You'd be assisting a prosecutor, someone they're in the process of hiring. It's trial-focused, so you'd get exposure to the courtroom side of things."
Samara perked up at the description, her eyes lighting with curiosity. "That sounds amazing," she said, glancing at Tazara, who gave her an encouraging nod.
Before Kamala could elaborate further, her phone buzzed on the desk. She glanced at the caller ID, "Willis", she sighed softly.
"Excuse me for a moment," she said, picking up the call.
"Yes, this is Kamala," she said, her tone immediately professional.
The voice on the other end was insistent, almost frantic.
"Kamala, it's Willis. I need you to come back. The DA's office is swamped, and we have a high-stakes case coming up. I need someone who can win this, and you're the best we've got, well had?"
Kamala's brows furrowed. "Willis, I'm not in that role anymore. I have other responsibilities now, I'm teaching my first law school class, I couldn't possibly make the-" she replied firmly.
"I'll make it work," Willis pressed. "Your schedule, your terms, your pay, whatever it takes. I need someone with your expertise to train an incoming intern, too. Please, Kamala."
Kamala's gaze drifted to Samara, who was now chatting quietly with Tazara, the two laughing softly about something. She exhaled slowly, her eyes narrowing with a mix of contemplation and resignation.
"I'll think about it," Kamala said finally, her voice low.
Willis didn't sound entirely convinced, but let her go with a grateful, "Thank you. Just let me know soon."
Kamala ended the call and leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping absently against the desk. Her gaze lingered on Samara for a moment longer, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face.
How the hell was she going to explain being their girls' teacher, secret fling, and her mentor.