Something Like Love

A/N: Ok, this chapter is a bit shorter than the last. However, I'm not even gonna be modest haha, this is my favorite chapter so far. I wrote it at like 2am on Saturday night (no lie), just after seeing "Derailed" for the first time. I always draw my inspiration from other places, whether it be movies, television, or books. And okay, don't like like "What, she drew inspiration from Derailed, is this gonna turn into some murder story??" LOL. No, it's not, don't worry. The whole atmosphere is pretty much intact. I just wanted it to get a little more tense, that's all Derailed pushed me to do lol. (GREAT movie, by the way). So yeah, this was the aftermath. I did get lots of ideas from Derailed though, so those influences are gonna go into my next fic, which I already have pretty much planned out, and I'm excited to get to it soon.

But anyways, lol. Enjoy the chapter

Oh yeah, and Tenneil... ffnet is really weird and your msn didn't show up, lol. Maybe just put it as your email if you do the anonymous review thing :-)

Rachel sat on a bar stool, idly stirring her second dirty martini. She glanced sideways at Ross, who looked a bit unsure of himself as his eyes wandered and he took a sip of his own drink. They hadn't said much since they arrived at the bar, but she found herself not minding. Normally, she would be overly uncomfortable during silences with any guy. But, with Ross, it felt like it was okay to not always be talking.

She swiveled in her seat, curiously surveying the rest of the bar's inhabitants. It wasn't crowded, since the bar was fairly old and most of the prestigeous Upper East Siders flocked to the flashing lights and glamour the newer bars and nightclubs provided. But Rachel had always liked this place; it felt friendly and familiar even if you'd never been there. She saw a few men, around their mid-fourties that she recognized from the building next to hers, playing pool at the pool table. A few older people strung out randomly in the tables, a younger man sitting farther down the counter looking low, the same bartender as always cleaning glasses behind the counter.

She heard Ross's bar stool creak as he turned her direction. She spun back around to meet his face, and smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

"What do you think?", she asked, motioning to their surroundings.

"Well, it's . . . an oddly comforting place," he answered honestly. "Feels like I've been here a million times, even though I've never even heard of it."

She smiled at the fact that she wasn't the only one who felt that here.

"It's always been my favorite," she told him.

"I can see why." She noticed that he was analyzing the other people in the bar, just as she was. "Regulars?", he asked, motioning to them.

"Yeah, some of them," she answered. "I see a few of them here all the time, practically everytime I'm here. But I don't really know any of them." She nonchalantly took a sip of her drink, nodding in recognition to one of the 'regulars'.

"Why not?", he questioned, genuinly curious. She sent him a confused glance. "Why don't you know them, I mean," he clarified. She rose her eyebrows in surprise; she'd never really thought about it. It wasn't quite the type of thing that passed her mind while she was here.

"You don't really do that here, I guess," she tried to explain. "I mean, if you don't know people already, it's kind of assumed that they're not important enough to bother getting to know. They don't 'run in your circle', I guess you'd say. They're kinda big with that here."

"That's sad," he said, casting his eyes around the bar again while drinking. "No one will ever know if they're missing out."

"I guess," she admitted, averting her eyes to the floor. It was sad. Besides the people in the apartment across the hall from her that she'd met on a few occasions, she didn't really know anyone in her building. She might know first names, but she never actually held conversation with them. Why did people do that here, just dispense of anyone they didn't already know or had heard of? It was pretty shallow. Then again, this entire part of the city was shallow. Once you hit Park Avenue, everything changed.

"I mean, the perfect person could be in front of someone's face the whole time, you know? And they'd never get the chance, they'd never know. Just because they 'weren't supposed to'."

Rachel brought her eyesight back up to look at him. He was still glancing around at various parts of the bar, but he looked genuinly sad. He felt sorry for the people here, who saw each other every day but didn't even know each other's names. She nodded at his words.

"Can I ask you a question?", he said randomly, after a few suspended moments of silence. "You don't have to answer if it's too personal, it's just something I've been wondering."

"Uh, yeah, sure," she answered with hesitance. What personal question could he have for her?

"When we met at Central Perk last month, you said something about staying single now. I don't know, I've just been wondering what that's all about, I guess. Just curious- is there any reason you're doing that?"

Oh wow, she thought. He remembered? In trying to recall the encounter, she could remember telling him that only briefly, and in one long, frantic sentence. He paid that much attention to her? But, more importantly, was she going to answer honestly?

"No," she decided on. "I mean, that's not too personal. I . . . I can answer that." She took a deep intake of breath; sure, it was a decision that she'd barely explained to her own best friend. But something about Ross made her feel comfortable in confiding in him; based on what little she knew of him, he'd only support her.

"Okay, then why?", he encouraged softly. She could tell that he didn't want to come off as being pushy, but he intently wanted to know. She wondered why. Maybe he was as interested in figuring her out as she was in him.

"I have a dead-end job where I'm never gonna get promoted, my parents still pay for half the shit I own, my roommate keeps thinking I'm having mental breakdowns and then forces incense on me," she counted off. "But that's not even all of it. Have you ever felt your romantic life just, like, come to a standstill?", she asked enigmatically. She could see him visably hesitate at the question, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I guess," he answered relucantly.

"Well, I've felt it. I mean, I try to date, and I find something really ridiculous wrong with whoever the guy is, like I'm looking for an excuse. Really, it's just stupid. I don't know why I do it, maybe I'm just pickier than I thought. Maybe I just stopped caring. So, eventually, I just . . . gave up."

"How long's that been happening?"

"I've had the problems since . . . well, since I left Barry." She sighed sadly. "I've never been able to have a decent relationship since him."

"I thought you said you didn't love him," he asked, confused. She briefly looked him in the eye before darting her gaze away again, just barely nodding to agree with him. "So why would it be a problem?"

"I guess it just made me realize that I'm sick of playing around. Dating for dating's sake just felt ridiculous. There was no meaning, no point. Why bother when you know its only for a little while? None of it lasts." She threw back the last remaining drops of her martini, setting the empty glass on the counter. "Why even give a shit?" A moment of tense silence followed.

"With all these little obstacles, you're really gonna miss out on something amazing. Or someone," Ross said, his eyes smiling at her but the rest of his face remaining stoic. She looked him right in the eyes again, only this time she was unable to look away. She was unsure of the actual time that elapsed as the two of them sat there, seemingly staring the other down, but it felt like a full few minutes.

"I hope not," she eventually found her self saying, her voice barely above a whisper. They both silmultaneously drew closer to each other. . .

"Wanna refill?", the scruffy bartender loundly interrupted them.

Rachel jumped in her seat, easily startled by the man's presense. She shook her head, snapping herself out of a moment she was still struggling to comphrehend, before answering.

"Sure, one more Phil."

"Coming right up."

As he turned towards the drinks, she curiously looked back at Ross. What had that just been? Consequently, he had also turned his attention away, and was now finishing his own drink while surveying the customers once more. One of them had jaggedly entered a few quarters into the jukebox, and music began softly humming through-out the bar.

As Phil placed Rachel's refilled glass in front of her and she thanked him, Ross swiveled in his stool to face her again.

"Would you like to dance?", he asked, and she noticed that he seemed to muster all the courage in the world just to ask those five words. A smile crept its way across her face, and he produced one to match. She was just about to extend her hand to him when a warning sign flashed off in her head.

You're staying single now.

Her smile waned slightly, and her eyes once again darted elsewhere. Anywhere but his hopeful face. She hadn't just explained half her life story to this guy only to go against every new principle she set for herself just because he was sweet.

God, why did this timing have to be so bad? She deeply inhaled, and exhaled loudly.

Before she could break the bad news, and potentially his confidence, his phone rang. He quickly excused himself, looking a bit embarrassed for putting himself out there, however small a gesture it was. He retreated to a vacant corner of the bar, near the washrooms in the back. Her eyes followed him, their blue sparkle somewhat dimmed.

After a few prolonged minutes, Ross came back.

"I, uh, have something to do tomorrow morning. Like, really early." He shoved his phone back in his pocket. "I'm sorry, but I'm gonna be gone almost all day. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, sure," she answered, quickly nodding. "Then should we . . .", she trailed off, gesturing towards the exit.

"Probably."

They went to pay for the drinks, Rachel noticing how they each paid for their own, rather than either of them attempting to pay for the other. A wall seemed to build itself quickly, dissolving the night into one, long silence, thick with tension.

Rachel led the way back to her building, one step ahead of Ross the entire time. She stared at the ground, retracing the steps she knew by heart, and feeling like they were the only steps she'd ever take for the rest of her life. Nothing ever changed, and no one had successfully penetrated the partition Rachel still seemed to put between herself and every person out there. But, of course, just when things seemed to start changing for the better . . .

"I'll see you," Ross said awkwardly, when they reached the apartment. As he entered the door to Phoebe's room, he turned to look at her as she stood in the middle of the living room, watching him. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she whispered back. He entered the room, shutting the door behind him. A few seconds passed before Rachel collapsed onto the couch behind her, burying her face in her hands. "I'm just sabotaging my whole fucking life, aren't I?", she quietly asked no one.

She brought her hands down, looking around the dark and empty room.

"I sure am," she answered herself, before curling up on the couch still fully dressed, and closing her eyes to what was left of the night.