Ross screamed like a girl when he stepped into the cold shower. When was he going to remember to check the water temperature first? He swatted away the showerhead so it wasn't splashing down in his face and cranked up the warm water. Rachel was probably laughing in his bedroom right now.
They were supposed to have dinner at Monica and Chandler's tonight. An old friend of Chandler's was in town, and Monica apparently was afraid that the evening would be awkward with just the three of them. Ross understood. And like everyone else, he was curious to meet someone from Chandler's past.
But before dinner, Rachel and Ross had enjoyed another afternoon of "just sex." This time it had started on the phone. Rachel had called to ask an innocent question about dinosaurs, but five minutes into the conversation they'd resorted to flagrant phone sex, and two minutes after that she'd been at his door. Come to think of it, Ross couldn't remember what the question had been, or when Rachel had taken an interest in dinosaurs.
They never planned their encounters. OK, Ross admitted that this afternoon might have been intentional on Rachel's part. But usually, the sex just sort of happened. After that first bonus night, it had been easy to try a second night, and then a third. And now they were on their sixth. Their so-called "bonus night" had turned into more of a "bonus month," and with no end in sight.
Not that Ross was complaining. But it was a lot harder than he thought it would be to keep control over his feelings for Rachel. He knew he should probably confide this to her, but he also didn't want to push her away. And he knew that's what would happen if she found out the truth. Or at least if he told her the truth, because he suspected that she already knew where he stood.
They weren't getting back together. Rachel insisted on this, and Ross reluctantly agreed. They had decided that now wasn't the time. Hell, their divorce had only gone through a few months ago.
But divorces aside, Ross figured that Monica and Chandler's engagement was the main thing holding Rachel back right now. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was upset that they were getting married. Sure, she was happy, even thrilled, for them. But she didn't have anyone of her own, and that hurt her. And the last thing she wanted to do was get back together with Ross just because she craved a relationship, any relationship. Unfortunately, Ross had to agree with her motivations. At least for now.
Still, that didn't stop him from answering a booty call when it came knocking.
Rachel was zipping up the back of her skirt when Ross ducked out of the shower a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around his waist and steam seeping out of the bathroom behind him.
"You're already dressed?" His face fell with disappointment. "I thought you were gonna shower next."
"I'm going to run back to my place and shower," Rachel said, strapping on her sandals. She stood up and ran her hands over her skirt, trying to smooth out the wrinkles.
"Yeah, I guess you'd better hurry. Monica's expecting us, um," Ross leaned over to look at the alarm clock next to his bed, "um, an hour ago?"
"Damnit. I've got to get out of here." Rachel jumped up from the bed and stopped in front of Ross, who was scuffing his feet on the carpet, water from his hair dripping down the side of his face and the back of his neck. Rachel was tempted to pull him to her and kiss him goodbye, hell, to lick the water off of his neck, but she settled for a peck on his cheek and a wave. "I'll see you in a few minutes, OK?"
"Yeah, OK. I'll see you there." Ross sat heavily on his bed and stayed there for a few minutes after he heard Rachel shut the front door.
He wasn't looking forward to this evening. Ross knew all about Chandler's friend. In fact, he'd been surprised to hear that Chandler had agreed to let him visit. And Ross fully understood why things were awkward between them. He definitely wasn't eager to play mediator tonight. But at least everyone else would be there too.
Ross sighed and stood up, pulling on the boxers and jeans he'd been wearing earlier. He didn't bother making the bed that he and Rachel had so eagerly torn apart just a few hours ago. He hoped it would still smell like her when he went to sleep tonight.
+++++
Rachel was breathless when she got back to her place, having sprinted across the street. She planned to take a two-minute shower and change clothes, then race over to Monica and Chandler's. She darted into the bathroom and looked around for her towel _ Joey was always stealing it because his were wet. She wasn't surprised to find it missing.
She ran across the living room and pushed open Joey's door. And then she stopped in her tracks.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry," Rachel said to the naked woman lying facedown on Joey's bed. The woman had risen up on her elbows when she heard the door squeak open.
"Rachel?"
"Phoebe?"
"What time is it?" Phoebe looked dazedly around the room. And then it dawned on her that she was naked, and Rachel was still standing in the doorway. Phoebe grabbed a blanket and pulled it over her body, then rolled onto her back.
"Um, Phoebs, what are you doing here?"
"Napping."
"Of course," Rachel said slowly. "In Joey's room?"
"Yeah, there was too much noise across the hall."
"And you're naked because…"
"You know I always nap naked."
"You know, I didn't know that," Rachel said.
"Wow, it's late," Phoebe said, picking up her watch, which was lying next to Joey's bed. "We'd better get over to Monica's. She's freaking out about Chandler's friend." Phoebe stood up, the blanket wrapped around her body, and started picking up her clothes.
"Right," Rachel said, and then managed to shake herself from the shock of the situation. She spotted her towel balled up in a corner, thankfully near the door, and grabbed it. "I'm just gonna take a quick shower. Tell Monica I'll be there in a few minutes."
"OK." Phoebe, as usual, seemed totally unaffected by the oddness of the scene. Rachel took one last look around Joey's room, half expecting to see her roommate huddled naked in some corner, trying to hide, and then backed out, shaking her head.
+++++
Thirty minutes later, Rachel was the last to arrive at Monica and Chandler's place. Everyone else was already seated around the kitchen table, steaming bowls of food making the rounds. Rachel apologized and took a seat between Phoebe and Joey.
"Rachel, this is Vic. Vic, Rachel," Monica said, pointing with a spoon toward the man seated across from Rachel. Rachel smiled at him then took a plate of asparagus from Phoebe.
Vic had a big smile, she could see, but otherwise small features _ tiny black eyes that were sunk in his face, ears that almost disappeared behind his sideburns. He wasn't at all attractive, but he acted as though he didn't know it, or at least didn't care. He seemed completely at ease at the table, surrounded by mostly strangers and one old friend who, according to Monica, would prefer he wasn't there.
Speaking of Chandler, Rachel didn't think she'd ever seen him so quiet. He had already filled his plate, and now sat at Monica's side near the head of the table, absently pushing the pile of rice on his plate into a neat mountain.
Rachel apparently had interrupted a story Vic was telling when she arrived, because Joey asked him to finish what he was saying.
"Oh, right," Vic said, pausing to finish chewing the food in his mouth and swallowing it with a swig of wine. "So Chandler and this girl, um, what was her name?"
Chandler shrugged and didn't look up from his plate. "I have no idea."
"Anyway, they head back to her parents' bedroom, and they're rolling around, clothes are everywhere, he's got her shirt off and his pants off, and all of a sudden he gets kinda sick."
"Dude, bad timing," Joey groaned.
"Uh huh," Vic said, flashing his grin. "So he gets up and he's like really sick now, so he runs over to this door, which he assumes is the bathroom, and he knows he's not gonna make it to the toilet, so he just throws the door open and pukes all over the place."
"That's sick," Rachel said, putting down the forkful of food that was on the way to her mouth.
"Oh yeah, but it gets worse," Vic said. "The girl starts freaking out, like screaming. Turns out Chandler puked in her mom's closet. Got her shoes and her clothes, everything. She had to buy a whole new wardrobe, right, man?"
Chandler glanced up at Vic, paused to glare at him, then went back to his rice pile.
"Chandler, I can't believe all the crazy things you did in high school," Phoebe said.
"Yeah, you never told me you got arrested," Joey said.
"Three times!" Phoebe finished.
"And you had sex with a stripper at your 16th birthday party?" Joey said, beaming with pride.
"And his 17th," Phoebe said.
"And his 18th," Monica added flatly.
"Nice," Joey said.
"Wait a minute. You told me you were a 20-year-old virgin," Rachel said, hiking her eyebrows in suspicion.
"Nineteen. I had sex when I was 19," Chandler muttered.
"What was that?" Rachel asked.
"Never mind," Chandler said loudly. "Apparently I drank my way through high school. Is it any wonder I can't remember any of this happening?" Chandler stood up suddenly, kicking his chair back, and carried his full plate to the kitchen sink.
He was furious at Vic for telling these stories. He couldn't understand why his friend saw the need to lie so vigorously. Or at all, for that matter. His friends would have been perfectly sated with the fact that he had been a band nerd, that they had stayed in most weekend nights to play card games, maybe bribing someone's older brother to buy them cheap beer if they were feeling particularly rambunctious.
It wasn't so much that Chandler was embarrassed by the lies. Ross knew none of the stories were true, and Monica and Rachel obviously didn't believe most of what Vic was saying. But Phoebe and Joey looked like they were eating it up. And even if they also doubted Vic, it still meant that Chandler would have to explain to them later why his friend had lied.
And he didn't want to explain a thing.
Behind him, Chandler heard Monica ask Vic a question about his job. Thank God. She was stepping in for him. Trying to change the subject. Let Vic lie about his own life for a little while.
+++++
An hour later, everyone was lounging in the living room, four empty bottles of wine on the coffee table. Seeing as how most of them were solidly sober, it looked as though Vic would be spending the night on the couch.
It was getting late. Chandler saw Joey stretch and sink deeper into the recliner. Rachel and Monica were propped up on the couch, their legs tucked under them. Phoebe, curled up on the floor next to Joey, was resting her head on his leg.
Vic was the only one who looked like he planned to keep going for a few more hours. Aside from a few rude jokes and his non-stop flirting with the women, he was a polite enough guest. He'd offered to help Monica clear the table, and after spreading the lies through dinner, he'd eagerly asked questions about everyone else for the rest of the night. It had turned into an evening of sharing old high school stories all around. Chandler was the only one who didn't participate.
"And I lost about 200 pounds, and here we are," Monica said, dishing up the last details from her past.
"Man, that's like two whole Monicas you lost. Amazing," Vic said, tipping his glass in her direction before finishing off the rest of the wine. Chandler was amazed _ he didn't even seem drunk.
"Looks like Vic's used to drinking a bit." Chandler jumped at the whisper behind him. Ross had joined him behind the couch, leaning against the kitchen table.
"Yeah," Chandler said, nodding. "I should probably get him to stop drinking. I think all we've got left is some rubbing alcohol and a little vanilla extract."
"Better get to him soon then," Ross said. "Monica'd be pissed if he finished off her vanilla. The stuff she buys is like $20 a bottle."
"She spends $20 a bottle on vanilla?" Chandler asked. "Maybe I should start drinking that stuff."
Ross gave him a humorless laugh. Chandler took a deep breath and, with a grimace pasted on his face, took a step toward the couch, where Vic was squeezed between Monica and Rachel.
"So, Vic, looks like you've got the couch tonight," Chandler said loudly. Monica and Rachel perked up; they'd been looking for a way to end the evening. Joey let out a soft snore from the recliner, where he'd finally fallen asleep.
"Man, party's over?" Vic said. The women nodded. Vic shrugged and looked at Chandler. "That's OK. How about you and me stay up, have a few more drinks, talk over old times?"
"Oh, I think there's been plenty of that talk tonight, don't you?" Chandler said, crossing his arms. Vic stood up and walked around the couch toward him. "Besides, there's nothing left to drink."
"C'mon, you must have something left. A light beer in the fridge maybe?" Vic opened the refrigerator and Chandler could hear him shuffling food around in his search.
"I don't know, I think we've got some vanilla left," Chandler said. "And it's the good stuff, too."
"Chandler," Monica said sternly. "You know how much that costs?"
"Look, we're all out of alcohol," Chandler said to Vic, ignoring Monica. "Besides, don't you think you've had enough?"
Chandler knew immediately that he'd crossed a line. Vic froze in place, then stood up slowly, the light from the refrigerator casting dark shadows across his cheeks and forehead and reflecting in his watery black eyes.
"Well, I guess you'd know when someone's had enough, right, Chandler?" Vic asked, letting the refrigerator door slide silently shut. Chandler sighed and ran a shaking hand over his face.
"I'm sorry," Chandler said. "I'm not gonna tell you what to do. But really, there's nothing left to drink."
"That's right, you'd never tell anyone what to do," Vic said. "That's not your style, to step in and keep somebody from making a mistake."
Chandler was starting to feel sick now. He could feel his friends watching them. He wanted nothing more than to push Vic outside, discuss this in private. Hell, not even discuss this. He really just wanted to run to his room and shut the door. He briefly wondered how long he would have to lock himself in there before everyone forgot to ask him what this was all about.
It wasn't going to happen that way, though. Vic was continuing.
"Of course, I shouldn't blame you," Vic said, stepping closer to Chandler. "It's Kit's fault, too. And mine. I guess you could even blame Amy." Chandler cringed at the last name. Ross finally stepped in.
"Look, man, let's talk about this later, OK?"
"No, I think Chandler needs to hear this."
"Vic, come on, let's at least go outside." Chandler took a step toward Vic and reached to touch his shoulder and guide him toward the door, but Vic shrugged away from him.
"Fine. We can take it outside."
Once in the hallway, Chandler closed the door behind them, but he knew his friends would be fighting for space to put their ears up against the door. At least they couldn't see him now.
"So, Chandler, who do you blame?" Vic asked, slipping right back into his conversation. "Kirk? He was the one driving, right?" Vic was standing just inches from Chandler now, staring up into his face. Chandler could smell Vic's sweet, drunk breath every time he opened his mouth. It made him nauseous.
"I don't know. It happened a long time ago," Chandler said softly. He wanted to run. He wouldn't look at Vic.
"Seems that way, doesn't it?" Vic asked. "At least to you I guess it would. It was all just some tragic accident to you. A few people you didn't know very well."
"You know that's not true," Chandler said, finally staring hard at Vic.
"How would I know? It's not like we ever talked about it."
"I didn't know what to say."
"You never even visited Amy in the hospital." Vic sounded disgusted.
"I was 16. I didn't know what to do."
"So you didn't do anything. Just like that night."
Chandler finally lost his patience. "And what about you? What did you do? We all screwed up. Look, man, I know it's my fault. But it's your fault too."
Vic hit him. It wasn't a hard punch, but Chandler was caught off guard, and he stumbled and fell against the door, landing in a clumsy kneel on the floor. Vic was standing over him when he looked up, the left side of his face throbbing.
"You're right." Vic was yelling now. "We all killed those people. We killed that woman and Kirk. And Amy, well, Amy might as well be dead."
Chandler stayed where he was and met Vic's stare. He nodded. "I know."
Vic looked suddenly confused, as though he'd been expecting Chandler to fight back, to deny everything. There was no reason he should have expected an argument. Vic had known ever since the accident that Chandler blamed himself as much as anyone. But seeing Chandler kneeling in the shadows seemed to change everything. All at once Vic looked exhausted, his face falling into deep wrinkles, the shadows heavy under his eyes.
"Yeah," he said simply. "You're right. I've probably had too much to drink. I should go."
He didn't go right away. He stood over Chandler, panting as though he were out of breath, apparently deep in thought. He looked one more time at Chandler before he left.
"Thanks for dinner," he said.
"I'm sorry," Chandler said.
"Yeah, I know."
Chandler fell back on his heels as he watched Vic leave. He reached a hand up to his face, feeling the warm welt on his cheek, and closed his eyes. Now he would have to face everyone. Now they would all know.