A/N: Ok, here's chapter 3! Thanks again for the comments, I appreciate all feedback. In response to one reviewer who asked why the fic has an R rating, it's because when we get to the R rated stuff later on, it'll be appropriate! I tend not to start fics with R scenes and get straight into sex and stuff – Ross and Rachel just met! But there's a bit of language in this chapter and don't worry, if you're really desperate for R material, I'll give you plenty when the time comes. Oh and there's no song today, because I didn't have time to find one – snowed under at uni with boring essays. Boo.

Chapter Three

Rachel spread the newspaper open in front of her and scanned the page as she absently sipped coffee. It was hard to find what she was looking for when she didn't know the name, but she remained hopeful. She moved her finger across the page as she went through the numerous gig reviews printed every day in the wake of the previous weekend's events.

Just then, Phoebe padded out from her bedroom and, yawning, waved at Rachel. "Morning."

"Hey," Rachel replied, not taking her eyes off the newspaper. "Did you sleep ok?"

"Yeah, fine. Dunno what I'm gonna do today, though." Phoebe sat down beside Rachel and sighed. "Being unemployed sucks."

At this Rachel looked at Phoebe and smiled sympathetically. "I know, sweetie. I wish I could get you a job but all I do at that stupid diner is make tea and sweep up. It's not a real job. Wouldn't it be cool if we were both in a band instead?"

"Wow, yeah, it would be amazing!" Phoebe said, brightening at the thought. "Imagine, we'd be travelling and playing to people and everyone would want to sleep with us!"

Rachel laughed. "Well, that's ambition for you." She returned to the reviews page. "I made some coffee if you fancy a cup."

"Ok, I'll just... Hey, what are you looking for? Is this about the band on Saturday night? I didn't know they were getting reviewed!"

Rachel shrugged. "I'm not sure if they are. I wanted to check, though, just in case. You know, see what other people thought." Phoebe gave her an 'I-don't believe-you' look, and Rachel stared at her. "What? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Phoebe replied, getting up to fetch her coffee. "I was just wondering if this had anything to do with that guy you were checking out. You know, the one in the band who was staring at you all night?"

Rachel blushed – quite unlike her, especially with Phoebe. She knew the blonde girl was right, though, and for some reason she was embarrassed to admit it. Perhaps it was because she still felt ridiculous for liking someone she'd spoken to for about ten minutes and knew nothing about. Usually she had to spend at least a day with a guy before knowing for sure she liked him. She was picky with men, but she didn't find that a problem. At least it meant she sussed them out before getting in too deep, unlike Phoebe, who tended to follow her heart and rush straight in.

"Wh... Wha... There was no guy..." Rachel, unnerved and distracted, gave up with the paper and instead crossed to the sofa to pick up her coat. "I just... liked the band..."

"Sure, ok, whatever." Phoebe's disbelief was evident in her voice, and Rachel sighed. "But I don't see why you can't tell me. It's not like I'm gonna judge you or anything, is it?"

Of course, she was right, but still Rachel hesitated. She was twenty-four, not some lovestruck teenager who fell for every nice man who smiled her way. The only thing stopping her from forgetting about this one was the fact that she couldn't, no matter how she tried.

It was as she was going out of the door that she finally caved.

"His name is Ross, we chatted for about two minutes and he gave me his shirt. Now leave me alone!" And with that, she went to work, hoping Phoebe wouldn't do the laundry and find Ross' shirt hidden under the pillow.

Mitzie's was a diner which looked like it had stepped right out of Grease, with booths and jukeboxes and a huge counter where people could sit and drink their milkshakes. It was pretty popular, especially with the local college kids, and it was here Rachel worked during the week, albeit reluctantly. She didn't exactly like her job, which consisted of wearing an extremely short skirt, a tightly-buttoned blouse and a blonde wig, and almost entirely saw her making drinks and cleaning up. She desperately wanted to change, but it was difficult to find a line of work that she was good at and that paid well enough to support both her and Phoebe, who hadn't been employed in months. There just wasn't time to go job hunting, and it wasn't as if Rachel had a long list of qualifications to rattle off to the nearest managers.

"Rach, table four!"

Rachel hoped her superior, Alice, didn't see her roll her eyes as she grabbed her pad and made her way over to table four, where sat an attractive, elegant-looking woman in a brown duffel coat. She was texting something on her mobile phone, but stopped when Rachel cleared her throat and forced a smile.

"What can I get you?"

The woman sighed. "A one-way ticket to Europe?"

Rachel wasn't quite sure what to say. "Well... I'm afraid we don't stock them. How about a nice latte or something instead?" She paused when she noticed the woman's face fall. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"No, no, don't worry. I'm sorry." The woman ran a hand through her hair. "Just home troubles, you know. Can I have a cappuccino please?"

"Sure," Rachel replied, making a note on her pad. She wondered what was wrong. It always helped to pass time if she could strike up conversations with customers, and the nosy streak in her really wanted to know more. "I hope everything goes ok for you."

"How can it go ok? Everything is fucked up!" The woman dropped her head into her hands. "I am so sorry. I don't know what's got into me."

Rachel took the seat opposite and peered concernedly at the woman. Her hair was lovely, long and blonde and real, unlike the stupid wig Rachel had to wear over the top of her auburn locks. "You're allowed to be upset," she said gently. "If a man's involved, you're definitely allowed. I'm Rachel, by the way."

The woman laughed a little at this and raised her head again. "That's the most sensible thing anyone's said to me for days." She smiled. "I'm Melissa."

"Nice to meet you, Melissa. Look, I'm just gonna run over there and make your order, but if you want to, you know, get anything off your chest, feel free to give me a call." Rachel stood up and smoothed her skirt down before going to the coffee machine and making the cappuccino. When she returned to table four, Melissa was dabbing her eyes, and Rachel's heart clenched automatically. She hated seeing people cry.

"Aww, what's the matter?" She placed the foaming drink in front of Melissa and patted her hand. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

Melissa shook her head. "It is that bad, believe me. I can't even talk about it. I'm in such a big mess, and I don't know how I got here. Whatever you do, Rachel, don't lie. Lying gets you into all sorts of shit, take it from me, and then you end up in a crappy diner, drinking cappuccino and moaning to anyone who'll listen. Take it from me."

As Rachel walked away, deciding to leave things alone, she wondered what Melissa thought people who had to work in the crappy diner had done to deserve their fate.

When Rachel arrived back at the flat that evening, she found Phoebe in the middle of the floor, doing some sort of yoga pose.

"Hey Pheebs," Rachel greeted her tiredly, chucking her keys on the counter before slumping down in the ancient sofa. "How was your day?"

"Oh, you know, pretty average. Yours?"

Rachel tilted her head so that she could see Phoebe's face, which was wedged somewhere between her legs.

"Ok, I guess. I am so bored in that job, though. I wish something would just come along and... I dunno... sweep me off my feet. Am I crazy for thinking that?" She ran a hand through her hair as Phoebe carefully straightened herself out.

"No, of course not, Rach. I know exactly how you feel. But look at it this way; at least you have a job of some sort, which is still better than no job."

Rachel nodded, knowing deep down that Phoebe was right, and feeling guilty for wanting more. She couldn't help it, though. Ever since she had left home and attempted to fend for herself, she didn't think things had gone very well. She wasn't where she'd imagined herself being, and despite being a generally optimistic person, occasionally Rachel was brought down by the cold, hard truth that she was in a rubbish job, living in a tiny flat, with barely any money and no boyfriend.

"Ooh, Rach, by the way, I found the review!" Phoebe got to her feet and went over to the fridge. "It wasn't as good as I thought it would be, but it did say that the singer girl is having a birthday party on Thursday night. Apparently she lives a few blocks away from us! How cool is that?"

"Really? Wow, that is pretty cool," Rachel agreed, smiling. "It's been a long time since I went to a party. Or anywhere, for that matter."

"No, but I had an idea! Why don't we go along and wish her happy birthday? You know, it'd give us something to do."

Rachel was incredulous. Phoebe was constantly thinking up crazy ideas but this was one of her maddest. "What? Pheebs, you can't seriously be suggesting we gatecrash that girl's party? Don't be ridiculous!"

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, lighten up! Live a little! When I was fifteen, I went to loads of parties I wasn't invited to and nobody ever threw me out. In fact, I met you at one, remember?"

Rachel did remember – it had been her parents' wedding anniversary and Phoebe had introduced herself as one of Dr Green's work colleagues. Rachel had only found out the truth later when she'd bumped into Phoebe strumming her guitar in a car park, and they talked for a long time. That was Phoebe, though. Rachel didn't think it would be right for her to simply turn up to the birthday bash of a girl she'd never spoken to.

"Pheebs, I..."

"That guy might be there..."

Phoebe's sing-song tone permeated Rachel's brain, and the potential of the words hit her hard. That guy might be there. Maybe he'd come over and say hi – if he hadn't forgotten her. And, maybe they'd have another conversation. The maybes were endless, and Rachel knew it was highly unlikely she'd even have the chance, but it wasn't impossible, which was why she turned back to Phoebe with a nervous smile on her face.

"I could, um, give him his shirt back..."

And with that, the two excited girls started planning.

A/N: Yeah, I know, it's a bit unrealistic but that kind of mad thing happens in Friends all the time, so I thought it wouldn't be too out-of-place in the story. Plus, I need a way to get my lovers together, and also it's my fic, hehe. Reviews are the kindest way to say thank you ;)