A/N: Buenos dias/tardes/noches! Como estas? Becca and I are both in Spanish 1-2 (crazy) and we're on a Spanish kick! But that doesn't mean you can leave a review in Spanish, cause neither of us can get past saying the days of the week, introducing ourselves and the like.

Anyway... sorry this took so long! School is nutso for both of us. High school... well. I look forward to the next four years *cough*not*cough*. Thanks for all the reviews! This chapter is kinda short but hopefully we will update faster this time. So review!

Disclaimer: I own them. I own every character. I invented them. I invented chewing gum. I invented tube socks. I invented the Internet.

CHAPTER SEVEN

"You're still thinkin' about her, aren't you?"

Chandler looked up from his newspaper. Joey was standing there, his arms crossed. "What?"

"Her. Monica."

Chandler shook his head. "Of course not, why would you say something so crazy," he said without enthusiasm.

"Aw, I don't blame you. She's got a rockin body, that's for sure," Joey said, pouring himself some orange juice. "But you are still stuck on her. Be honest with me." Chandler glanced at him. His roommate may have kept a gigantic secret from him, lied about his lifestyle, and be involved in roughly 3 misdemeanors a night, but the guy was still his best friend and knew him better than anyone else.

"You want me to be honest? Okay, honestly, yes. Honestly I think the woman is amazing beautiful, and honestly I am unbelievably pissed at myself for fucking everything up. To be quite honest with you, I can't blame her for leaving me on West tenth but I wish she hadn't because I don't know if I'm going to be able to function knowing she hates me. There. Aren't you glad I was so fucking honest, Joe?"

"Look, do you want me to talk to her?" Joey offered.

"I don't need you to set me up with one of your prostitutes, no thank you," Chandler said bitterly.

"Chandler, I know her better than you. She's a sweet girl, she's not really like the others. This isn't her kind of life. I can talk to her. If you want me to - "

"Joey, no thank you," Chandler snapped.

"Alright, then, do you want me to send up one of the other girls? I mean, I know you still owe me for when you slept with her before, but this one will be free of charge."

"That's very generous of you, but..." Chandler trailed off as an idea struck him. "So does that mean Monica's not, ah, busy tonight?"

"With a man?"

"No, with a fish stick," Chandler said rolling his eyes. "Yes, Joey, with a man."

Joey screwed up his eyes in concentration. "Nope, she didn't get anyone tonight and she doesn't go work the field yet."

"Interesting,'' Chandler said. "Very interesting."

Monica wearily entered her apartment to hear the phone ringing. She put her purse down and answered the phone, "Yeah?" I've even lost my phone manners. If my mother could see me now... The thought made her heart clench up.

"Hi, Monica."

Monica bit her lip, wishing she could just hang up. "Hi, Joey." Her voice was tired, but without resistance.

"Can you work tonight? No one else is free..."

She sighed. "Joey, I don't know..."

"C'mon, baby. I'll pay you double, triple, even."

Monica's eyes widened. "Triple? Really?"

"Really."

"I've never heard you be so generous," Monica said.

"Well, the general opinion is that I'm feeling pretty generous today."

"Riiight," Monica said.

"Please, Mon?"

"All right. But you owe me quadruple."

Monica looked at the slip of paper in her hand, and then up at the crumbling old building in front of her. For a building that couldn't have been built later then the turn of the century, it was in pretty good shape. It was, however, the kind of place she would expect a man to go to meet up with a hooker, and she wondered just how many had come here before her. The thought made her shudder with repulsion and wrap her arms tightly around herself.

She stepped inside the lobby and hurried to the elevator, avoiding the eyes of the grimy man behind the desk who took in her short skirt and stilettos hungrily, whistling in appreciation. She rode to the seventh floor, got off, and walked down the hallway. "Room 708... 708..." She found the door to the room this "Joe Whitman" guy was in. Readying herself like she always did before a job, she knocked, waiting for the filth she would be with today to appear.

The door opened. "Look, before you get mad, just hear me out."

Monica's jaw dropped. "Chandler?" she gasped. "What - what the hell?" Dammit, she cursed herself. She'd been duped, tricked into seeing Chandler again. And the worst part of it was, she didn't mind.

"Monica, I wanted to say that I'm really, really sorry for what happened before. It was rude and insensitive - "

"Damn right," Monica muttered. She hardened herself. She couldn't be glad to see Chandler. He was just a guy - a guy who, as a matter of fact, had tricked her into sleeping with him.

"And I swear, I never meant to hurt you. I am so sorry, and I know I don't deserve it, but could you consider giving me another chance?" His eyes were pleading, guilty, and above all, gorgeous.

"Look, I don't have time for this," she said, turning away before his eyes could suck her into their vast blueness. He grabbed her wrist. "Chandler, if I don't have a job here, I need to get home."

"Monica, please," Chandler begged. "I'm so sorry. I'll do anything to make it up to you. I've never met anyone like you. I've never been a go-getter and I probably never will be, but I know I'll hate myself forever if I let you get away."

"You know nothing about me," Monica said, turning to face him. "And I know nothing about you. We had sex one night a few weeks ago, and I thought you were the guy who was going to be my pimp. I mean, you were gentle and kind, but I didn't think we could recover from that kind of start. But you surprised me - you were so nice, I walked with you, we talked - and then you insulted me before you even knew me. I can't trust someone who would do that."

"Can't I show you that you can trust me?" Chandler pleaded.

"No," Monica whispered. "You can't. I can't. I'm sorry." She turned and ran down the hallway. After a moment's stunned hesitation, he ran after her.

"Monica!" he yelled as her ran down the stairs behind her. "Monica!" He saw her dark hair and flashy purple skirt whirl around the banister. He chased her through the lobby, gaining momentum all the way. He finally caught up to her outside. He grabbed her wrist again and pulled her back towards him.

"Monica," he gasped. "Please, please don't go.''

"Why not?" she asked, trying to sound defiant but coming across meek.

"Because I - I think I'm falling in love with you," he whispered. They both stopped breathing. She looked into his eyes, filled with such longing and desperation.

"What's love got to do with it?" she said despairingly. She pulled away and scrambled down the street, eager to get away before her first tears fell.

What's love got to do

Got to do with it

What's love but a secondhand emotion

What's love got to do

Got to do with it

Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken...

Becca: mi mascota favorito es snowball.

Don't ask. Really.

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*Yen*