Phase Three
Chapter 4: I am not worried; I am not overly concerned
~.~
Rachel pushed her salad around on her plate, looking up every time the door to the deli opened. She was usually the one running late, not him. They had decided that while it was probably best not to completely pursue their feelings towards each other, there was nothing wrong with spending more time together. A lot more time together. It wasn't dating unless they actually called it dating. It was just two friends, spending more time together. Alone, together. It was hanging out. Friends hang out.
So far, they had had lunch together every day that week (Chandler had even rearranged his schedule at work one day to have a late afternoon lunch with her), and they had hung out every night after work as well, usually staying up together after everyone else had gone to bed. So far, no one had questioned their new-found "friendship," maybe because the relationship-focus of the group was currently on Ross and Emily, who seemed to be moving right along in their relationship, mostly because the long-distance (really long distance) aspect was forcing them to either move forward or break up.
"Hey, you." Rachel smiled at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hand on her back as he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. They had been careful not to completely cross the friendship-relationship line again, but had no problem toeing it.
"You're late, mister," Rachel pointed to her watch.
"I know, sorry, stupid meeting ran late," Chandler apologized, kissing her again. "I'm gonna grab some food quick," he motioned to the counter, and she nodded, watching him walk away. Rachel sighed, wondering how long they were going to play this game. Not that it was a bad game, but she much preferred the game where there was much more…action, one might say. "So," Chandler said as he walked back to the table, holding a sandwich and bottle of water, "how much longer do I have you?"
"About 15 minutes," Rachel replied, frowning at her watch.
"Sorry," Chandler apologized again, setting his food on the table as he sat beside her instead of across from her. "How's your day going other than me being super late?"
"Well," Rachel smiled, nodding as she answered, "my day started off by having to help a 70-something-year-old lady pick out lingerie. So," Rachel shuddered, and Chandler laughed out loud, "I'll never look at anything black and lacy the same again."
"Well, at least your boss doesn't slap your ass on a daily basis," Chandler offered, but Rachel shook her head.
"I don't think so. You can't win at the 'I have the worst job' game. I've had terrible job after terrible job, in customer service, for the last few years. You get to, what sit up in your office playing solitaire for 90 percent of your day, tell people what to do for another 9 percent, and then do maybe one tiny bit of work?"
"Well, I prefer tetris to solitaire, and it might only take up about 80 percent of my time, but," he sighed, nodding, "other than that, pretty much how I spend my day. But, that's pretty much why I can't leave a job I hate. They pay me too much for doing too little. I can't make myself find a different job I would actually like," he paused, thinking, "or even figure out what a job I would actually like would entail."
"I guess I have you beat there," Rachel grinned. "See, I had a shopping addiction. Now, I get paid to shop! Of course, the less glamorous days include clients like my sexy grandma, but, overall, I just pick out pretty outfits for rich people who buy whatever I say looks good. But, it's not like I want to be doing this for like, thirty more years or anything…"
"Yea, no kidding. Hey, I'm 28-years-old and still don't know what I want to be when I grow up."
Rachel grinned, "Are you ever going to grow up."
"Eh, probably not…"
"Oh!" Rachel grabbed his arm excitedly, setting down her fork. "Are you not eating, by the way?" she asked, motioning to the sandwich he had yet to touch.
"I was gonna eat after you leave, since you're leaving soon," Chandler smiled shyly, causing Rachel's heart to melt a little more.
"Oh," she smiled, touched. "Well, anyway, you should come in sometime while I work! I could dress you up!"
Chandler looked down at his suit. "What's wrong with how I dress?"
"Nothing," Rachel patted his arm. "Well, at least not anymore, a few years ago you could have used a little help. But, you should come in! I'll make you look all sexy."
"Even sexier than now?"
"Hard to believe, right?" Rachel laughed, suddenly realizing they were holding hands on top of the table. How did that keep happening without her meaning for it to happen?
"Okay," he squeezed her hand. "So, when you say you're going to dress me, do you mean, like, literally, or…?"
"Chandler," she playfully swatted him with her free hand. "Anyway, I don't think Mr. Waltham would appreciate that very much," she added with a slight grin. "Speaking of which, I need to go!" she looked down at her watch. Chandler nodded, squeezing her hand again before letting go.
"I'll walk with you?"
"No, it's fine. Stay and eat," she smiled reassuringly as she grabbed her purse and jacket. Struggling to decide how to say goodbye, she finally decided on a kiss on the cheek. However, he turned his head at the same moment she leaned in, so the kiss on the cheek actually landed square on his mouth. And, her hand had once again somehow found its way into his, damnit. "I'll see-I'll see you later," Rachel sputtered out, heart racing as she squeezed his hand once more.
"See you later," Chandler whispered, the chaos of the Broadway Street deli seeming to stop as his entire world focused in on Rachel. He hadn't intended to kiss her, either. The hand-holding, yes. Kissing, no. Watching her walk out the door, he sighed. This toeing the line thing wasn't getting any easier as time went by. And, it had only been a week.
What a torturously wonderful week.
~.~
"So, what ever happened to that Josh guy?" Phoebe asked, sitting on the orange couch in Central Perk next to Rachel. Rachel glanced at Chandler out of the corner of her eye, noticing he looked rather amused at the question.
"Oh, ya know," Rachel shrugged, taking a sudden interest in the car magazine on the coffee table. "He just got divorced, not really looking for anyone right now."
"You sure you're not just too afraid to ask Joshua out?" Monica asked as she sat down as well.
Rachel shook her head fiercely. "No, just decided I wasn't interested anymore."
"Rach, when he left his wallet at the store, you took his drivers license and your drivers license and held them together making little kissy noises. You just go from that, to not interested?" Monica asked, not convinced.
"Yea, thanks for keeping that story between us by the way," Rachel glared at Monica, who smiled in apology. "And, yea, I dunno, it was just a crush," Rachel shrugged. "I'm over it."
"Oh! How did you get over it? Does he have some weird secret you found out about?" Phoebe leaned forward. "Did you meet some other rich guy you get to dress up like a Ken doll? Oh, you just have the best job!"
"No, nothing like that," Rachel continued, now flipping through the car magazine. "It was just a crush. Just went away. No new man."
"Yea, uh-huh, spill, Rachel Karen Green," Phoebe ripped the magazine from her hands. "Unless your newfound interest in cars is real."
"There is nothing to spill! There is no new guy!"
"Right, and you're a really good liar, too," Monica agreed with Phoebe.
Rachel turned to Chandler for help, but he just smiled, waiting to see what her explanation to the girls would be. "There is no new guy," she huffed, grabbing her magazine back. "And I just…like looking at the pictures of the shiny cars."
"Right, well, if you're not gonna spill, we actually need to leave," Phoebe stood up. "Monica and I are going to see a movie, and if you weren't a big fat liar, you could come, too. Chandler, want to come?" Phoebe looked at him, but he shook his head. "Right, well, Rach, if you change your mind and want to spill, you can join us," Phoebe added as she and Monica left, both waving goodbye.
"Thanks a lot," Rachel glared at Chandler, who was laughing beside her.
"What? What was I supposed to do?" Chandler looked at her, amused.
"Oh, I don't know, be Chandler? Tell a joke?"
"I don't just tell jokes on command," Chandler explained. "Jokes are more of an art form than that."
"Really?"
"No, but I don't know what joke I could have made that would have distracted from the fact that you, Rachel Green, are a terrible liar," Chandler explained, putting his arm across the back of the couch, technically around her.
Rachel frowned, looking down. "You suck at lying too, ya know."
"Yea, I know," Chandler agreed with a sigh. "I know."
~.~
"Hey," Rachel smiled when she opened the door to the guys' apartment to find Chandler sitting on the yellow couch, apparently alone.
"Hey," he smiled in reply as she crossed the room to sit next to him.
"Whatcha doing?"
"Paying bills," he explained, writing out a check.
"Exciting," Rachel said, monotone, leaning up against him on the couch. "Holy crap, that's how much you pay for rent?" she asked, looking at the check in his hand. "But your apartment is so much smaller than ours! I should know, I live there right now!"
"Yes, but Monica pays half of your rent, no?"
"Right," Rachel nodded. "So you always pay all of your rent?"
"Only on months I would like to not get evicted," he smiled, leaning back as he set the checkbook down on the table. "Well, Joey helps out when he can. If he gets a really good job, he'll do something like pay the rent in advance for a few months or something," he explained, wrapping his arm around her to pull her closer.
"You're a good guy, you know that?" Rachel said sincerely, rubbing his leg.
"Yea, I try," he nodded with a sigh. "Right about now, I really wish I was less of a good guy, though," he spoke softly as she ran her hand slowly up and down his leg. He should get some sort of medal for being such a good guy.
"Me, too," Rachel agreed, staring into his eyes as she tried to decide if kissing him would be a good or bad thing. Good thing, bad idea. But, really, why would it be such a bad idea? What claim did Ross have over her? Why couldn't she and Chandler like each other without it being complicated? Why-
"What's the difference between British and English?" Joey asked, suddenly bursting through the door as Chandler and Rachel jumped apart. "I'm so confused!" he exclaimed sitting down between them. "British people speak English, right? But Americans speak English, too. But we're not English, are we?" he looked back and forth between Rachel and Chandler, oblivious to what he just interrupted.
Chandler laughed out loud, not sure whether or not it was a good thing they got interrupted. "Why don't you just go ask Emily?" he patted Joey on the back as he stood up.
"Well, I think she already thinks I'm not the brightest light in the bulb, if you know what I mean…"
"Why does she think that, Joe?" Rachel asked as Chandler walked over to the refrigerator.
"Well, I asked why they stole the name 'football' instead of just calling it soccer like us, and just call real football, football, and she just looked at me like I was crazy," Joey explained.
"Joey, soccer is real football," Chandler explained, handing a beer to Joey and Rachel before sitting down with his own, this time next to Rachel instead of Joey.
"Right," Joey laughed, thinking that Chandler was kidding. "So, about the whole British/English thing?"
to be continued…
~.~
Review, please! Yes, you, all of you non-reviewers of summer! This summer, percentage-wise of hits to reviews, I'm only getting about a third (or less) the amount of reviews as I did before summer. So, either I suck more than a few months ago, or all of you summer readers are lazy. I'm gonna go with the latter, because I makes me feel better about myself, haha. Anyway, seriously, if you're reading this and don't hate me for writing Randler, leave a little review. It's really hard for me to write a non-Mondler fic, so feedback is nice and very much appreciated :)
And, now that I feel just a little bit pathetic, I'm gonna go ahead and go now :)