Something Like Love
By Caity
A/N: New story time! Hehe this is a story that I've been developing in my mind and on paper since last weekend. It's kind of funny, because its the third or fourth idea I've had for my next fic, haha. They've ranged from drama to humor and inbetween. I originally wanted to write some compelling, knitty-gritty drama. Then, after just watching a romantic comedy and reading a really sweet, simple little fic (As I said at the end of my last story, "Bed Of Roses" by Tina Chaves-- read it!), I kind of got the desire to do something simpler. Something cute, sweet, and funny. And this fic was born.
This story is based off the movies "Picture Perfect" and "The Wedding Date", just to give the proper credit there lol. It's pretty AU, as I've changed some character relationships (as in who was friends with who) and given different timing to everything. Just to verify, it's pretty much in modern times.
Rachel is 27. She ran out on her wedding to Barry three years prior, but she did not run to Monica. She hasn't had a decent, "serious" relationship since. She shares an apartment in the East Village with her roommate, college friend Phoebe (yes, that Phoebe. I told you it was pretty AU!). She knew both Monica and Ross in high school, but hasn't really seen either since. There will be allusions to Monica, Chandler, and Joey, but they are not integral to the story at all. It is more a story of Rachel's coming-of-age through a strange, growing relationship with Ross. Everything else will pretty much be explained as the story goes on.
Disclaimer: If you think I own these guys, then that would be pretty cool. Though, alas, I do not. But if you're willing to sell Ross to me for a reasonable amount of money, I wouldn't say no.
"Oh, you're home!"
"I cannot believe you set me up with this guy, Phoebs!", Rachel Green yelled, slamming the door behind her. She threw her purse onto one of the endtables in her spacious apartment, luxuriously situated in NewYork's Upper East Side. As she shedded her coat, she layed into her roommate a bit more. "I mean, do you not know me at all?!"
"Rachel, come on! He was cute!", the eccentric blonde protested, her many rings twinkling in the light as she held up her hands in defense. "I know you- you like cute guys! I got you a cute guy!"
Rachel stared her down a moment before answering.
"He was unemployed, Phoebs! No money!". She stopped for a moment, looking flustered and almost offended. "He wore jeans on the first date."
Phoebe, at first too befuddled to even say anything, screeched "Jeans? So what, Rachel? He was a really great guy, you missed out!"
Taking a deep breath, Rachel collapsed onto the large, cushy white couch in the front room. "I know!", she yelled. She let out a tremendous sigh, letting her eyes drift to the large window overlooking a nearby park. As she took in the streetlights and starlight reflecting off the puddles in the roads, she thought a moment. "I know," she repeated, this time more quietly. "What's wrong with me? I mean, there's something wrong with every guy. Am I just setting myself up for this?" She held her hands up in surrender.
"No, no," Phoebe comforted, sitting beside her friend. "Look, Rach, I've known you for- what- nine years? In college, you were never like this!" She took a moment to consider. "Okay, well you definitely were picky, but there was always a 'right now' guy. You were always more concerned with having fun, so you bent a little more. Like a . . . bendy straw! And now, you're just, like, this really hard, straight, plastic one!"
"I'm a straw?", she asked in confusion.
"No, Rach! What I'm trying to say is . . . I don't know, you're just putting more pressure on yourself now. Since you left Barry, you've just had your eyes on the prize. You want the one instead of just anyone. And that's okay! But if you keep insulting the clothing of every guy I know, we are gonna run out of prospects here!"
"Maybe," Rachel answered, still a bit distracted. She sighed, pondering on whether Phoebe was right or note. "Maybe I should just go to bed, and think about how much my life sucks," she groaned.
"Your life does not suck. Look, you'll meet that guy one day. You won't be single forever! You just gotta loosen up a bit, Rach."
"I don't know. Maybe it's good for me to be single now, you know? I mean, it's freeing! I can do whatever I want, be wherever I want, go anywhere I feel like! And, hey, we can hang out more! Connect and have girl nights, just like we used to!"
Phoebe looked guilty a moment. "Actually, I was going to tell you. Eric asked me if I wanted to be serious with him last night. And I kinda said yes."
"Phoebs!", Rachel whined. "I cannot believe you have a boyfriend now, and I don't!" She stomped her foot.
"What are you, five? Anyway, I'm going to bed now. Come get me if you want me to burn some incense to help you sleep." As she was getting up, she stopped and looked at Rachel, mulling something over in her mind. "Clarity," she said, coming to a decision.
"What?"
"I should burn you the clarity incense!"
-----
As Rachel pulled back her covers to get into bed, she shut off the radio she'd been listening to. As the notes faded into the darkness that surrounded the room, Rachel quickly put out the incense Phoebe had insisted she burn, and collapsed into her pillow. She loved nighttime. Any day that felt terrible, it always felt like everything would be renewed at night.
Drawing the covers closely around her, she thought about what Phoebe had said earlier. Sure, she had boyfriends all the time before Barry. Tony DeMarco, Pete Carney, Billy Dreskin. All of them fun guys, alright for the moment. But none of them ever felt the way Rachel was always told love would feel. With Barry, there was stability. There was financial support. But there was no passion. There was barely even friendship. And ever since realizing that, it was like she shut herself off to men. There was something wrong with everyone, now.
So here she was, 27 years old and still feeling like a lost girl right out of college. No direction in life, and even less in love.
Groaning in frustration, she buried her face in her pillow, too angry with her current life to bother thinking about it more.
-----
The next morning, Rachel woke up bright and early for work. She was growing into completely loathing her job- being an assistant buyer just wasn't her thing. When she applied for the position, she thought it would be great. She would be shopping- and getting paid for it! But, as it turned out, shopping isn't as fun when you're not actually shopping for yourself. Who wants to help a bunch of old women pick out thongs? Especially when they don't even end up buying them.
She stepped into the shower, hoping that the warm water might make her feel a bit better. She often woke up like this in the mornings- worried and anxious about her future. Mostly because she wasn't sure she saw one for herself. She dreaded finding out that, in ten years, she would be stuck at the same job, still throwing men out the window as if she were picking paint colors. Everything had just gotten so cloudy since the Barry fiasco. She sighed, rubbing her shoulders as she tried to empty her mind.
When she finished, she stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and stood in front of her wall-length mirror. She analized her image- bright, cobalt blue eyes, reddish-brown hair that fell just past her shoulders, small waist, lean legs. She used to have men all over her. But lately, it was like she was someone else. OR maybe she just saw through all those men.
Sighing, she dressed and dried her hair, retreating to the kitchen for a light breakfast before heading off to Bloomingdale's. She found Phoebe up- surprisingly- munching on a bowl of cereal while reading the New York Times.
"Anything interesting?", Rachel asked disinterestly, as she prepared some cereal for herself.
"No, I'm reading the obituaries. Just to double check."
Rachel rolled her eyes, smiling at her best friend's odd tendencies. Even after knowing her for nine years, Rachel was still always amused by Phoebe's endless strange beliefs and customs. Not to mention the guitar-playing and dismal songs.
"You okay?", she asked, suddenly. "It's feeling a bit murky around you."
"Yeah," Rachel replied, taking a seat across from Phoebe. "I guess."
"Still the same problem as it always is? Barry?"
"Barry's not the problem!", Rachel exclaimed, exhasperated. "It never was just him. It's not like I want him back or anything- I didn't love him! It's just . . . why has it been so hard for me since him? Why do I cast away all men? What's wrong with me?"
"You just know what you want, now," Phoebe replied, all-knowingly. "Like I said last night, you're not just in it for kicks or sex or whatever. You want whatever you didn't find with Barry."
"Ah, sex," she replied, sighing with nostalgia. "Tell me, what's that like now?"
"Oh come on, don't give me that. When was the last time you had sex?"
"A little while ago . . . six months." She looked down, embarrassed. "God, cause that's not pathetic. No wonder I've been such a tight-ass."
"It'll happen for you, Rach. Some great guy is, like, gonna come out of nowhere. Someone you'd never expect. But you'll find it."
"I don't know, maybe I should just be single for a while. I've gotta figure out what the hell I'm gonna do with my own life before I go messing up someone else's." She glanced at the clock. "Well, it's off to work."
"While you're there, could you get me the obituaries from the Post?"
-----
Rachel sat at the desk in one of the back-rooms at Bloomingdale's, her feet propped up on the desk as she read some odd fashion magazine. She twirled her hair around one finger, blew a bubble in her gum, and turned the page. Just one more day, and it would be the weekend . . .
"Rachel?", she heard the snooty British voice of her boss call out. She groaned.
"Yes, Mr. Waltham?"
"I've got a new client for you, here," he answered, leading in a young man behind him. Rachel sized him up, assuming him to be maybe 28 or 29. Medium height, lean build, sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes. Pre-Barry, she would have killed for a man like this.
"Luke," he offered, holding out his hand. She faked a bright, cheery smile- a technique she'd mastered since obtaining this job- and accepted it.
"I'm Rachel Green. Now, what kind of clothes around you looking for?" . . .
Three hours, four suits, eight pairs of slacks, and countless dress shirts later, Rachel found herself back on the sidewalk, looking for a taxi. Work was demanding, but somehow, it wasn't even her job that bothered her the most today. It was this Luke guy. Being so sweet, and even cracking little jokes. What did he want? What did he have to be so damn happy about?
And the way he acted at the end of it. "Here's my card"? Did he really think she was going to call him?
"Geez," she thought to herself. "Maybe I should give this 'staying single' thing a try."
Finally hailing a cab, Rachel seriously considered this idea. It would take some of the pressure off her. Rather than try to get her over-all happy ending, she could focus on everything else now. Like her job, or her continuing dependency on other people. She should try to figure out things by herself, and then, who knows? Maybe some amazing man would just walk into her life. Maybe all she needed to do was stop looking for him.
By the time she reached her apartment, she made her decision. She wasn't going to seek out that perfect man anymore. No blind dates, no checking guys out. If someone wanted her, he could ask her himself. And if he didn't feel right, then she didn't have to say yes. She didn't even have to flirt anymore.
. . . Well, maybe just a little flirting.
As she entered the front room, she saw Phoebe was already back from her own job, deeply absorbed in a television program.
"Somebody's got a skip in her step," she observed. "Did you meet a guy?"
"Nope," Rachel answered. "I am swingin' single, and that's fine with me!"
Phoebe watched, amazed, as Rachel disappeared into her bedroom, a grin plastered across her face.
"We'll see how long that lasts," Phoebe sarcastically quipped to no one, returning her attention to the television.
I know, I know, this chapter has no Ross. But like I said, it's more focusing in Rachel. I wanted to use the first chapter to give you an idea of who she is, and where she is with her life at this point. Ross will come, I promise! Oh, and don't be shy- reviews are much appreciated!
