Conscious Bias

by Alexi Venice

  On the other hand, Shelby’s hair wasn’t pulled back in the tight bun she used for working out. Instead, the feminine, reddish-brown corkscrews with lavender splashes bounced over Shelby’s shoulders as she walked toward the table of CrossFitters. Monica wanted to run her fingers through Shelby’s luxurious hair, pulling each corkscrew taut to see if it sprang back to its original position. God, Monica loved those curls. She had always been attracted to women with naturally curly hair, but Shelby’s was the epitome of what turned on Monica. Who knew? She could no more control her natural instinct than the rising of the sun.

  Shelby turned and looked expectantly at Monica, waiting for an answer.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Monica asked, having not paid attention to Shelby’s last remark.

  “Is the trial going okay?” Shelby said over her shoulder, as they made their way through the restaurant. Before Monica could answer, Shelby slipped on the floor, her left boot kicking out in front of her. She grabbed Monica’s arm.

  Acting fast, Monica caught Shelby under her armpits before she hit the floor. Monica pulled Shelby up then hugged her. Nothing could’ve made Monica happier as she supported her crush. “Are you okay?”

  Shelby laughed nervously. “Yeah. I slipped on something.” She gathered herself and pointed at the floor. “It looks wet there.”

  “I agree. Very athletic save,” Monica said.

  Shelby smiled despite her embarrassment, and when their eyes met, Monica’s heart lurched. Shelby’s knowing gaze swallowed Monica whole, sweeping her off her own feet. She could’ve stayed glued to that position forever, suddenly aware of their hands, haphazardly placed on each other from the necessity of the moment.

  “Thank you.” Shelby loosened her grip on Monica’s arm, her skin now hyper-sensitive from Shelby’s touch.

  “Anytime.” Monica reluctantly let her hands fall from Shelby’s rib cage.

  They took the last two spots at the table of six, which left them seated across from each other at the end. Monica was in heaven, and, from her perspective, their lunch date was already a success.

  “Welcome, you two,” Craig said. “Did you drive together?”

  “Nope. Just a coincidence that we arrived at the same time.” Monica smiled at Shelby, who winked.

  Flirt!

  Shelby turned to Craig. “I was late getting out of school, and I only have 30 minutes, but I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Her eyes flitted back to Monica but returned to Craig, innocent as day.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said. “We never get to see each other outside of class.”

  The server appeared and took their orders for drinks and lunch. Monica and Shelby were the only two who didn’t order alcohol.

  “Maybe next time,” Shelby said, raising her glass of water in a salute to Monica.

  “Indeed,” Monica said, smiling flirtatiously but feeling faintly dorky for doing so.

  “You look adorable in your black suit,” Shelby said.

  The dorky feeling instantaneously evaporated. “My work uniform.”

  “I like how your blouse matches the emerald shade in your eyes,” Shelby said.

  Monica’s face flushed. She wanted to remove her blazer but now felt too self-conscious.

  Shelby smiled even more, sensing Monica’s discomfort. “Is the trial going well?”

  “I suppose. The physicians testified, and they did well, so I’m pleased.”

  “A success for you then?” Shelby asked.

  “Not really. My role is the subject of disagreement at work,” Monica said. “To tell you the truth, I’m ready to leave the firm.”

  “Seriously?” Shelby asked. “Why?”

  “Some of the lawyers are assholes. They’ve done work for the McKnights and are pissed that I’m helping the physicians testify for the prosecution.”

  “Fighting over money?”

  “Money and power, and I’m the rebellious ‘young lady’ who doesn’t fit in.” Monica used air quotes

  “They told you that?”

  “Yes, and that I’d better stop fraternizing with Nathan and his boyfriend, Matt.”

  “You have to be kidding me?!” Shelby’s hazel eyes flared with anger, and Monica made a mental note never to be on the receiving end of that look.

  “Oh yes, full homophobia.”

  “That’s illegal,” Shelby said.

  “I know, but what am I going to do? Sometimes, it’s better to leave.”

  “Stay and fight.” Shelby drummed her paint-stained—not nail polish—fingertips on the table.

  “Well, Nathan is leaving, and I’m the only woman at the firm—"

  “The only woman?” Shelby interrupted.

  “I know, right? I’m pretty sure they hired me three years ago as their ‘token female’ to make their stats presentable.”

  “So, you’re their diversity lawyer?” Shelby asked.

  “In more ways than they realize.” Monica raised her eyebrows as she sipped her ice water.

  “Are you out at the firm?” Shelby asked.

  “Only to two lawyers, but that’s going to change soon,” Monica said.

  “Good.” The edges of Shelby’s lips curved into a conspiratorial smile, sending a jolt of heat through Monica.

  “I have certain plans that I can’t discuss here,” Monica said.

  “Sounds mysterious.” Shelby chuckled softly and flipped her deliriously long bangs to the other side of her face as she leaned in to listen. Monica could have sworn she heard angels sing as she pictured Shelby flipping her hair in bed. God, she was mesmerized.

  “I’ll tell you later.” Monica struggled to remember what she wanted to tell Shelby in the first place. Yes. I’m horribly, unashamedly attracted to you.

  “Tell us what?” Craig interrupted, shattering the intimacy.

  “Oh nothing,” Shelby said, covering for Monica.

  “I noticed you two aren’t signed up for the River Valley CrossFit games next weekend,” he said.

  “Get real, Craig.” Shelby said. “You know I wouldn’t finish in a respectable time. I can’t do half the stuff that’s posted on the website.”

  “It isn’t about competing for time,” he said. “It’s about the experience, and you know all of the exercises.”

  “Remember the last time I did Friday Night Lights at MoFit?” Shelby asked. “I froze from performance anxiety and couldn’t do the double unders.”

  “I knew you were going to bring that up,” he said. “That was a freaky one-time deal. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

  “You’re just being polite,” Shelby said. “We both know that I can do double unders in a blur in class, but as soon as I get into a competition, the rope gets hung up on my feet.”

  “I’m sorry,” Monica said, “at the risk of revealing my ignorance, what are ‘double unders?’”

  “Jumping rope so that the rope goes under your feet twice while you’re in the air,” Shelby said. “I can do them when no one is watching, but as soon as the pressure is on, bam!” She clapped her hands together. “I look like I’ve never jumped rope before.”

  “Ah,” Monica said, “classic performance anxiety. I get that when I enter the courtroom. I’m fantastic in the office and in meetings, but as soon as I have to argue on my feet to a judge, I freeze up.”

  Shelby inclined her head. “Really? I never would’ve guessed. You gave an awesome interview on the courthouse steps.”

  “Haha. Thanks. I wasn’t arguing to a judge. I was giving an interview to Tiffany, who is quite a character, by the way.”

  “But can you jump rope?” Craig asked.

  Monica laughed. “I used to, but I haven’t tried in years.”

  “I’ll program it into the workout next week, and I’ll write you and Shelby down as a team for the CrossFit games.”

  “Wait a minute—” Monica protested.

  “Done,” he said.

  Shelby and Monica shared a defeated eyebrow raise. Monica secretly hoped
Craig would resume talking to the other side of the table, so she could have Shelby to herself.

  Shelby changed the subject and told a story about a student who spilled a can of paint the first week of class.

  Monica was riveted, as if she were watching a movie with a gorgeous, charismatic leading lady. Shelby could’ve been talking about making toast, and Monica would have been enthralled.

  She loved the way Shelby’s eyes sparkled when she spoke. The way she smiled so easily—her adorable nose crinkling at the bridge. The way her voice floated across the air—piercing Monica’s heart with an arrow. The way the veins in Shelby’s neck pulsed when she got excited. What Monica wouldn’t give to run her fingers along Shelby’s neck, down to her sternal muscles, and even lower. She longed to torture Shelby with tickles and kisses, sending sweet sensations over her skin.

  “Monica?” Shelby was asking.

  Shit! Busted again! She’s going to think I’m a dingbat. Monica swallowed hard and looked to her left. The waiter was there with their food. How long has he been standing there? When did I even order?

  “The buffalo chicken salad?” he asked.

  “Yes. Sorry. That’s mine,” Monica said.

  Monica looked up to see a lopsided grin plastered on Shelby’s face. Shelby mouthed “busted,” and Monica couldn’t resist smiling in sweet defeat. Heat crept up her neck, turning her face crimson, she was sure. Well, if she’s figuring out for the first time that I want her, so be it. I’m not hiding it anymore.

  Monica slipped off her blazer and let it fall on the back of her chair. While pretending to look at her salad, she saw Shelby checking out her neckline.

  Monica took a bite of her salad, and, as she chewed, realized the heat on the buffalo chicken was a nine out of a ten on her spice scale. She calmly set down her fork and drank half a glass of water, so she wouldn’t cough. Shit! I’d have to order something inedible in front of Shelby.

  “How’s your salad?” Shelby asked.

  “Pretty spicy.”

  “That’s why I didn’t order it. I had it once and spent the entire meal coughing and wheezing. I thought you realized how hot it would be when you ordered it.”

  “Ah….no,” Monica admitted, feeling like an idiot.

  “Here. Take half my club sandwich.”

  “I couldn’t do that.”

  “I was going to bring the other half back to work anyway in case I got caught late at school tonight.” She quickly transferred half her sandwich onto Monica’s bread plate.

  “Are you sure?” Monica asked.

  “Very. We can’t have you returning to court on an empty stomach.”

  “Thank you.” Monica moved her salad to the side and took a bite of the sandwich. She couldn’t remember being this happy and energized in a really, really long time. “This is delicious.”

  “I’d love to cook for you some time. Nothing spicy, of course.” Shelby said it so quickly and quietly that Monica wasn’t sure if she had heard her correctly.

  “I’d like that too.”

  “How about next weekend?” Shelby asked.

  Monica reached for her water to douse the hot images that had popped into her mind. “That sounds—"

  “Are you going to eat that salad?” Craig asked, pointing to Monica’s discarded bowl.

  “No,” Monica said. “It’s too hot for me. Take it.”

  “Awesome.” He slid it to his spot and dug in.

  “Next weekend?” Shelby asked, holding Monica in her stare.

  “That sounds nice if work doesn’t get in the way.” Craig and the people to Monica’s right faded into the background as all of her senses focused only on Shelby, time and space coming to a halt for them.

  “All work and no play…” Shelby’s smile reached a new level of suggestion.

  “Can we play it by ear?”

  “You’re coming over at 7 p.m. sharp on Saturday. Bring a bottle of wine.”

  “Red or white?”

  “One of each. I don’t know what I’m going to make yet.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.” Monica lingered over her sandwich, hoping to slow the pace, but time was her enemy, demanding that Shelby return to the classroom and Monica to the courtroom. As Shelby answered a question for Craig, Monica hung on every word, interpreting every expression with keen interest, staring at Shelby’s gestures as if drinking in her very existence.

  Monica’s mind went blank when she got lost in Shelby’s eyes. Is she staring at me too? She wanted to reach under the table and touch Shelby’s leg, but neither proximity nor courage abided her. She felt like she was having an existential love affair, one in which she so easily saw them together, saw herself kissing Shelby…

  “Well, I have to get back to work.” Shelby finished her sandwich and collected her bill from the waiter.

  “I’ll take care of that,” Monica said, plucking it from Shelby’s fingers. “After all, I ate half.”

  “Nonsense. You don’t have to.”

  “I want to. Do you have time for coffee?” Monica wanted to delay Shelby in the worst way to eke out one more flirtatious exchange.

  Shelby sighed and looked at her watch. “I wish I did, but I don’t.”

  “I understand,” Monica said quickly, hoping to give the impression that she wasn’t a ditz infatuated with the woman sitting across from her. After doing the credit card routine with the waiter, Monica looked up to see a smile on Shelby’s face.

  I wish I knew what was going on behind those flickering eyes.

  Shelby scooted her chair back and stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Bye everyone. This was fun, but I have to get back to school.”

  There was a collective ‘goodbye’ while Monica pushed her own chair back and grabbed her blazer.

  “Walk out with me?” Shelby asked, grasping Monica’s arm.

  “Sure.” Monica liked nothing better than walking arm-in-arm with the most beautiful woman in the restaurant.

  Once they exited, Shelby stopped in front of their cars, lowering her sunglasses from her hair to her eyes. They lingered, neither woman making a move to get into her car. Monica cursed the fact that her own sunglasses were resting on her dashboard, so Shelby had the benefit of reading the raw emotion in Monica’s emerald eyes. She had never been adept at concealing anything, so didn’t even try to hide the flood of desire that was pumping through her.

  “See you at CrossFit tomorrow?” Monica asked.

  “Unless a better offer comes along,” Shelby said.

  “Touché,” Monica said before she could think of anything sexy to say. Should I be suggesting something?

  “Call me,” Shelby said.

  Simply hearing that phrase out of Shelby’s mouth made Monica’s knees go weak. “Um. Do I have your number?”

  “Probably not,” Shelby said. “Give me your phone.”

  Monica would’ve given Shelby her car if she’d asked. She pressed the thumbprint to open her screen and handed over her phone. She watched Shelby punch in her contact info, the blotches of paint on Shelby’s jean jacket cuffs making Monica smile.

  “I really need to get back to school now.” Shelby returned Monica’s phone.

  “I like the paint on your cuffs.” Monica traced a few with her finger.

  “Job hazard, I’m afraid. All my clothes have paint on them.”

  “Adds character.”

  “Uh-huh. See you soon.” Shelby squeezed Monica’s hand then quickly walked to her Jeep and got in. Monica got in her own car but sat a second while Shelby drove off.

  She exhaled a long breath and looked down at her phone, still open to the screen of Shelby’s contact info. Shelby had entered her name and number all right. She entered her first name as “Shelby” and her last name as “Wants You!” Monica’s eyes grew wide, and she let out a whoop of excitement. This is the best day of my life!

  She had to text Shelby something, so Shelby would have Monica’s phone number too. She sat thinking then decided that simpler was b
etter. She texted, Uncommon last name, but I like it! If you need a last name for me in your contacts, it’s “ThinksUrHot.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  After hiding for several days, the sun peeked out during Monica’s drive back to the courthouse, adding to her lightened mood. Flirting with Shelby had temporarily transported Monica from the grisly scene of the trial to much-needed romance, giving her hope for a new life outside of work.

  The deliciousness of their nascent relationship was like a juicy peach, full of promise, deliciously sweet and messy to eat. Her soul had found a mate, or maybe returned to its mate, because she felt like she had known Shelby for centuries. She had never experienced such a sense of completeness upon meeting someone.

  Suddenly, her romantic reverie was interrupted by a large, black pickup truck in the passing lane to her left. He wasn’t overtaking her to pass, instead maintaining her rate of speed, his big truck coming dangerously close to the driver’s side of her little truck.

  “What the fuck?!” she exclaimed, carefully inching toward the shoulder of the road, as he crossed the center line, threatening to make contact.

  She glanced up, trying to see the driver, but the windows were tinted black.

  She pressed hard on her brakes, hoping he would pass, but he, too, slowed, then came at her again, driving her onto the soft, gravel shoulder. He dove hard to the right, this time making contact, his truck’s large fender scraping hers. The metal-on-metal clash forced her to grip the wheel tighter, turning left, and pushing back against him just to stay on the road.

  Oh my God, he’s trying to kill me! Panic gripped her as she white-knuckled her steering wheel, the road coming fast at her. A deadly guard rail was dead-ahead if she didn’t take evasive action.

  I’m going to die!

  She eased right and slammed on her brakes, but the soft gravel swallowed her wheels and pulled her off the highway. She overcorrected, pitching the truck into a 180-degree turn, going into the ditch right before the guard rail. She skidded down the embankment, the tires flinging chunks of grass and mud into the air. She came to an abrupt stop that hurled her first against the door then back against the seat. Fortunately, she was wearing her seatbelt.