[ ii. the one with the spanish soap opera ]

september 24th, 1994

☕☕☕

SURPRISINGLY ENOUGH, SABRINA WAS able to sneak in a two-hour power nap in the comfort of her own bedroom before the entirety of her household came barging back into the apartment, disrupting any peace that she had once felt.

After things had settled down at Central Perk, Sabrina and the gang had opted to leave Monica and Rachel to gather their bearings in private. Sabrina had not complained one bit, eager to get some rest. But now, abruptly pulled wide awake with the incessant ramblings of her young niece in her ear, Sabrina was a bit more compelled to start complaining again.

"Gigi," Sabrina groaned, sitting up slowly in her bed. Across the room, little Gabriela Lance was knelt down over a small chest of toys. "What are you doing? Tía's sleeping."

"No, you're not," Gabriela replied, not missing a beat. Even at only seven years old, the girl held more sass than Sabrina and her older sister combined. "Silly goose."

"I was," Sabrina grumbled, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Sunlight was still spilling into the small bedroom from between the slants in the blinds, but the clock on her bedside table gathered that it was now closer to evening than afternoon. "Did you have a good day?" She wondered, pulling her ratted hair back into a knot at the base of her neck.

"Yeah," Gabriela confirmed with an enthusiastic nod of her head. The movement nearly made the purple tiara atop of her small head fall, but the tiny girl quickly readjusted her crown as if nothing had happened. "Until baby Rafa threw up on Mama and we had to go home."

Sabrina wrinkled her nose. "Oof, that's no fun."

"It was really gross," Gabriela agreed, her own expression twisted with distaste. Finally, Gabriela seemed to find the toy she was looking for: a large truck. She then turned to glance back at Sabrina with a soft, pointed look. "Do you want to play with me?" She wondered.

Sabrina's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the question and her hands awkwardly curled inwards. She was not exactly in the mood to play with trucks, given that she had just woken up, but more than anything she hated turning Gabriela down. "Maybe in a little bit," She answered, finally standing up. Her knees crackled, something they should not have been doing when she was still so young, and she crossed over to her dresser to replace her pajama tank-top for a more loose-fitting crewneck. "I want to get a bite to eat first and check in on something."

Gabriela's face dropped, but she nodded her head in understanding. "Okay."

Sabrina squeezed the seven-year-old's chubby cheek as she walked towards the door. "I love you, G," She soothed.

"Love you, Tía."

With the door left hanging open behind her, Sabrina made her way down the short, cramped hallway—stepping over multiple toys as she did so—and shuffled into the dimly lit kitchen. Her older sister, Adrienne, had her back to Sabrina, but with motherhood it seemed as if she had acquired a seventh sense. "Did Gabriela wake you?" She wondered, her attention down towards the dishes she was currently washing.

"Yep," Sabrina informed dryly. "Don't worry. I didn't need the sleep, anyways."

"Why's everyone so sleepy today?" Adrienne questioned aloud, wrinkling her nose playfully.

"Must be because I forced myself to get up at five in the morning when I didn't have to," Sabrina muttered, glowering at the dark tile below her feet. "I mean, did you know it was Saturday?"

At that question, Adrienne finally turned around and frowned, as if unsure if it was a trick question or not. "Yes?" She answered.

"Hmm. I didn't."

"Are you drunk?"

"What? Of course not. It's only . . ." Sabrina trailed off. She had already forgotten what time it was, her mind still trapped in a state of overwhelming grogginess. She needed to get out of here; the entire apartment was so dark. Glancing through the narrow archway that led into the living room, Sabrina could just barely make out Cristian's sleeping form on one of the matching, leather couches. From the soft light that drifted from the TV in the corner of the room, Sabrina could also make out little Rafa's even smaller, sleeping form resting on Cristian's chest. The two-year-old son and the twenty-nine-year-old father were both passed out cold, drooling in their slumbers. Sabrina smiled softly at the sight and then glanced suggestively back to her sister. "You know, Joey and Chandler are having a small kickback in their apartment for the game. We're all invited."

Adrienne sent her younger sister a look. "What game?"

Sabrina frowned and halted momentarily, trying to think back to if Joey had even told her what kind of game it was. She certainly would not know based on her own knowledge. Sabrina hardly watched TV let alone knew the different types of popular televised sports. "I don't know," She admitted. "I don't really keep up with sports. But I do keep up with alcohol and I know you do, too." Sabrina was getting excited now, her dark eyes alight. "Come on! It'll be just like high school."

"I don't know, Sabrina . . ."

"Don't overthink it! Cristian and Rafa will be out for the rest of the night and it's almost Gigi's bedtime," She pointed out. Still Adrienne was unconvinced. "Look, after you put G to bed, just come down to Monica's later tonight, if you want, okay?" Sabrina offered. "We'll all be there."

Adrienne only rolled her eyes. "We'll see."

(That was most definitely code for 'I'm going absolutely nowhere tonight'.)

"Buzzkill," Sabrina huffed.

"I can't leave the kids," Adrienne argued. "Because this isn't high school anymore." Sabrina scoffed in response. She had already heard enough of her older sister's excuses and rather than start a fight that was unnecessary, Sabrina turned to leave. Before she could get to the door, Adrienne suddenly called out, " And you know the rules," She said quietly, avoiding waking up the rest of the household. "If you end up getting drunk drunk, stay there. Gabriela and Rafa don't need to see that."

Sabrina's eyes narrowed. "But they can see Cristian and you getting drunk in the kitchen?"

"That's different. We can only party, like, once a month nowadays," Adrienne rebuked. "Brina, I'm not trying to sound like I'm your mother. Lord knows we heard enough of that as kids. I'm not your boss but—"

"But," Sabrina muttered halfheartedly, cutting her off. "you're basically my landlord."

"Hey, you said it, not me. Look, you're free to do whatever you want, but you need to realize this house isn't a party place."

"It used to be."

"That was a long time ago," Adrienne reminded her. "Times are changing. We've all got to grow up eventually. And keep in mind that you're still Gabriela's unofficial role model, whether you like it or not."

"And that means I can't sleep in my own bed in my own room?" Sabrina retorted, wrinkling her nose. She knew how much the kid looked up to her; Adrienne reminded her of it all the time, but Gabriela was not her kid. Gabriela would not look to Sabrina for guidance when she got older. That was her mother's job. An aunt's job was supposed to be the fun one.

Adrienne shrugged, pulling Sabrina from her thoughts. "It's not just your room, remember? We agreed on that when she was born.  Rules are rules," She snickered. "I can't help that my daughter likes you more than she likes me." Then, to loosen the tension, she reached out and playfully squeezed Sabrina's arm, making the younger sister smile despite herself. "Go have fun. Have a beer for me, okay?" She laughed. "And no sleeping with Joey."

Sabrina blinked, but her cheeks burned nonetheless at the accusation. "I have a boyfriend."

"I know. So, don't sleep with Joey."

At that, Sabrina rolled her eyes and opted not to respond as her sister turned away to one of the many small cupboards that lined the kitchen's back wall. Sabrina made sure that she had her own key before she left the small, quiet apartment and began making her way down to the floor where three of her friends lived; Monica made enough money and was lucky enough to live on her own while Joey and Chandler shared an apartment across the hall.

About halfway there, Sabrina suddenly froze and looked down at her entire. Pajama pants and fuzzy slippers looked back at her. For a moment, she considered turning back to put on jeans, but then immediately knew such an idea was futile. Once the jeans came off for the day, they did not—under any circumstances—get put back on. And deep down Sabrina did not really mind what she was wearing. Her friends had seen in her in a lot worse and a lot less. At least she had pants on today.

So, snapping from her train of thought, Sabrina continued down the two flights of creaking stairs and crossed quietly down the short hallway to apartment door 20. Rather than be polite like any other ordinary person, Sabrina had long since given up knocking on Monica's door. Unless it was the middle of the night, the door was never locked; Monica's apartment was a safe haven for the entire group. No one—not even when one might have hated another's guts over a stupid argument—was ever turned away and for that Sabrina was more than thankful. Over the past summer Sabrina had spent more of her time in Monica's apartment than her own. So, with no hesitance at all, Sabrina swung open the door and waltzed right into the purple-walled apartment.

Unsurprisingly all of Sabrina's friends were already dispersed over the apartment, but not a single head turned in her direction at her arrival. Phoebe, Chandler, Monica, Ross and Joey were all gathered in front of the small TV pressed against the apartment's furthest wall, distracted by a Spanish-speaking soap opera. All of them had kicked their shoes off and several jackets lined the once empty coat rack that stood beside the door. Of the many bodies splayed over furniture, the only one that stood out amongst the ranges of varying comfort was none other than Rachel. The runaway bride sat alone at the round kitchen table, still in her wet wedding dress, with Monica's telephone pressed up to ear as she fought through a very dreadful but necessary phone call.

A voice drew Sabrina's attention back to the living room. "Okay, now I'm guessing that he bought her the big bagpipe organ," Monica attempted to guess, watching the background of the television show closely. "And she's really not happy about it."

Sabrina scoffed at her friend's horrendous guess. "Actually," She interrupted, crossing through the kitchen and into the living room where she then fell down into the open space on the couch between Phoebe and Chandler. "She's wondering why there's blood on his shirt," She explained, having the knowledge of an additional language to help her secure the discussion. "And he's trying to deny that he had anything to do with her sister's disappearance by using an awful attempt at an alibi that he'd been playing the organ all day. Which is stolen, by the way."

"Wow, this is wild!" Phoebe cackled.  "That's a lot better than your guess, Monica!"

Monica rolled her eyes playfully and Sabrina smirked, snuggling deeper into the couch.  At her arrival, Chandler sat up straighter in his seat. "Well, I see you're still alive," He snickered.

"Sorry to disappoint," Sabrina retorted, leaning her head teasingly on his shoulder.

"Did you get much sleep?" Monica wondered.

"A little," Sabrina admitted. She did not want to say that it was her niece that had woken her up.  None of them knew that Sabrina Munoz shared a room with a seven-year-old. As far as they were aware, Sabrina had a room all to herself and was perfectly content living with her sister and her family. Unfortunately, Sabrina's false life she displayed for her friends could not be farther from the truth.

She did not tell them because she thought it was a horrible situation. She just did not want them feeling sorry for her. Sabrina felt bad enough constantly complaining about her career to them. She did not want to bother them with her home life, too.

Suddenly, Sabrina's stomach rumbled uncomfortably. "Hey, Mon," She continued. "is it all right if I make myself a sandwich?"

"Of course." Monica nodded her head. "There's new bread in the cupboard. Help yourself."

Sabrina eagerly climbed to her feet and went back to the kitchen, carefully making sure to step over Rachel's dirty, rain-sodden, dress train as she continued to speak rapidly into the phone. Sabrina gathered that Rachel was talking to her father; and while she was trying her best to avoid eavesdropping, the otherwise silence in the kitchen did not make it easy. Thankfully only a few moments later a familiar voice broke the quiet, calling out to Sabrina from the living room.

"Brina, will you make me a sandwich, too?"

"Turkey or ham, Joe?"

"Surprise me."

"Both it is."

"Oh, you know me so well!"

Sabrina chuckled softly to herself and went about making the sandwiches, cutting the crust off her own but leaving the crust for Joey, knowing that he would want as much food from a meal as he could possibly get. And while she made sure Joey got the bulk of an all-meat sandwich, Sabrina stuck with turkey. She could not get behind ham. Or mustard. Or tomato. Or essentially any of the toppings that Joey preferred on his sandwich. She was a basic sandwich eater: turkey, cheddar cheese and mayo. Basic and she was proud to admit it even when Joey gave her a look of horror after she delivered him his sandwich and caught a glimpse of her own as she sat back down on the couch beside him.

"I could eat that in one bite!" Joey cried.

Sabrina defiantly took a large bite and chewed loudly. "Good thing it's not for you, then," She shot back.

"Unbelievable. Next time, I'm making the sandwiches," He challenged. "And you're going to like whatever I have to give you, dammit."

Chandler, who was sitting in an opposite armchair, frowned as he listened to the exchange between them. "Joe, you don't know how to make a sandwich for yourself and still have leftovers for others," He pointed out.

"A man can try, okay?" Joey exclaimed, waving his hand. As he did so, a stray drop of mustard went flying from his index finger and splattered on Chandler's cheek. Chandler's eyes narrowed in horror as his cheek instantly began to twitch and Sabrina nearly choked on her sandwich from her laughter.

Chandler rubbed aggressively at his dirty cheek, all the while likely plotting a way to get back at Joey later in the evening.  Then he turned back to the TV and his face contorted into a grimace once more.  "Boy, she should not be wearing those pants," He concluded icily.

Sabrina glanced back to the screen.  The woman currently on air had her back turned to the camera and wore light, tight jeans that did not do much to flatter her ass, but her legs looked great.  "I'd wear them," She argued.

"Of course, you would," Chandler huffed.

Joey merely shrugged; his sandwich now finished.  "I say push her down the stairs."

"I really hope you're talking about the girl and not me, Joe."

"Nah, that's Chandler's job," Joey insisted, sending Sabrina a smirk.  He then rose his fist in a chant, his entire attention pulled back to the soap opera as another woman joined the screen and began physically fighting with the other woman with horrible jeans.  "Push her down the stairs!"  In a matter of seconds, Joey had Chandler, Ross and Phoebe all crying out alongside him, pleading for a woman's certain doom.  "Push her down the stairs!  Push her down the stairs!"

And then the unnamed soap opera star was pushed down the stairs, and Joey Tribbiani let out a giant guffaw of applause.  Sabrina smiled smugly at his childish, giddy reaction, despite herself.

"Daddy, I just . . . I can't marry him!  I'm sorry.  I just don't love him . . . Well, it matters to me!  Come on, Daddy, listen to me!"

At the sound of Rachel's persistent plea, Sabrina suddenly glanced over her shoulder to see that the young bride had clambered to her feet and was now pacing uneasily through the kitchen.  From the corner of Sabrina's eye, she could see that Ross was now watching Rachel, too.  His face was full of quiet, innocent concern.  Rachel did not pay either of them any regard; her eyes were wide, and her voice trembled as she argued with her father.  Sabrina did not want to even imagine what the man on the other end of the line might have been saying. 

"It's like," Rachel continued breathlessly, waving her free hand around emphasis.  "It's like, all my life, everyone has always told me, 'You're a shoe!  You're a shoe, you're a shoe, you're a shoe!'."  Her voice quickly grew higher, shrilly in her determination.  "And today I just stopped and said, 'What if I don't want to be a shoe?  What if I want to be a, a purse, you know?!  Or a hat!'"  There was a brief moment of silence as the other end of the line spoke their peace, and then Rachel groaned loudly in annoyance.  "No, I don't want you to buy me a hat!  I'm saying that I am a hat—it's a metaphor, Daddy!"

Ross swallowed, unable to help eavesdropping.  "You can see where he'd have trouble . . ." And with a sudden, sharp look from Rachel as she heard his smart remark, he immediately stopped talking and looked away.

But Sabrina had yet to pull her attention away.  As Rachel's eyes flickered to Sabrina's, the latter sent the former a reassuring smile, but she feared it came off as more of a grimace.  "Look, Daddy, it's my life!" Rachel protested.  "Well, maybe I'll just stay here with Monica!"

Now that the entire living room was listening to Rachel's private conversation, several heads immediately whipped to where Monica sat.  Her expression was twisted uncomfortably, and she wrung her hands out, forcing a smile that did not reach her eyes.  "Well, I guess we've established she's staying here with Monica," She mused.

And from what Sabrina had already gathered of Rachel, it was that she was not going to be an easy presence.  Without a word, Sabrina reached out across the small coffee table and held her friend's hand tightly, sending her all the strength she had to offer.  Hell, after today, Monica Geller was going to need a lot of it.

☕☕☕

AFTER RACHEL HAD GOTTEN off the phone with her father, she promptly had a panic attack.  In the fallout, Phoebe had attempted to sing the young girl a soothing song about roses and raindrops and kittens, but the result was futile, and Monica had ended up being the real one to actually calm Rachel down.  On the opposite side of the apartment, Chandler and Ross were still glued to the television.  And elsewhere, Joey and Sabrina had decided to make themselves more sandwiches.  Of course, since Sabrina was still in the kitchen, she had not allowed Joey to get anywhere near her sandwich.  Now, while Joey feasted on a sandwich made for a king, Sabrina was still as plain as ever, munching happily on her turkey and cheese slapped between two slices of wheat bread.

"Look, Rachel, this is probably for the best," Monica consoled, reaching out to brush back a piece of Rachel's hair that had fallen into her face.  "You know, independence.  Taking control of your life.  The whole, 'hat' thing."

A crumbled paper bag rested in Rachel's hands from an attempted breathing exercise and it crinkled loudly as she set it aside.  "You think?" She murmured.

Monica nodded her head encouragingly.  Before she could respond, though, Joey was suddenly pushing off the counter and away from Sabrina and making his way over to where Rachel sat.  "Hey," He called, drawing the bride's attention to his leather-jacketed, cocky figure. "You need anything, you can always come to Joey."  He placed a warm hand on her shoulder, squeezing tight, and Rachel's eyes hesitantly flickered to the hand that was touching her, as if wondering why, exactly, he felt it was okay to put it there.  "Me and Chandler live right across the hall," He added.  "And he's away a lot."

"Joey, stop hitting on her!" Monica exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief.  "It's her wedding day!"

Joey frowned.  "What, like there's a rule or something?"

"Yeah, Joe, didn't you know?" Sabrina retorted through a mouthful.  "You have to give it at least 24 hours."

Chandler smirked.  "48, if we're talking about Brad and Sabrina's inevitable marriage."

Sabrina's eyes nearly bugged out of her head.  "Whoa, that's a big word, Chandler," She choked.  "And all jokes aside, that is a big, scary word that this girl does not want to hear and is most definitely not ready for."

Chandler's lips only remained curled, as if he knew something that she did not.  Their bickering was short-lived, though, when a suddenly buzzing from the door's intercom caught both of their attention.  Chandler slowly pushed himself off the couch and went to the tiny machine attached to the wall.  "Please, don't do that again," He groaned into the device.  "It's a horrible sound."

"Uh, it's Paul."

At the newfound, deep voice Chandler stepped back in alarm and Sabrina frowned.  "Who?"

"Is this the mystery man of the hour?" Phoebe wondered, sending Monica a sly look.

A giddy smile pulled at the edges of Monica's mouth and she eagerly rose to her feet.  "Buzz him in!" She ordered Chandler.

"Who's Paul?" Joey prodded.

Suddenly, Ross let out a gasp, and it was not from a shock in the soap opera narrative.  He instantly whipped around to face his little sister.  "Paul the Wine Guy?!" He demanded, rising to his feet.  "He finally asked you out?"

Monica did not look her older brother in the eye, but her cheeks were glowing now, too.  "Maybe . . . Okay, yes!"

As Ross happily pulled Monica into an embrace and congratulated her, Chandler pressed a button to unlock the main door downstairs in the lobby.  "Ooh, this is a dear-diary moment," He cooed sarcastically.

"Why, do you have something similar written in your own diary, Bing?" Sabrina teased, tilting her head to the side playfully.

Chandler's eyes widened as he went to stand beside her in the kitchen, pointing an excusing finger in her face.  "You promised you'd never bring that up!" He cried, all the while doing his best to ensure that no one overheard him.

Sabrina snorted.  "Okay, one, I was kidding," She told him, watching his cheeks redden with embarrassment.  "And two, it's nice to know you do have a diary."  She smiled cheekily at Chandler and nudged his side.  "We can have book club!"

Chandler let out a soft whine and Sabrina's laughter only grew.  Meanwhile, in the living room, Monica finally pulled away from her brother's hold and her eyes drifted down to Rachel, as if suddenly remembering that she was still there.  Her mouth instantly dropped as she reached out to grab Rachel's hand apologetically.  "Rach, wait, I can cancel the date," She insisted.  "If you need—"

"Oh, please!" Rachel cut her off with a wave of her hand.  She was beaming up at her.  "No, go!  I'll be fine."

Monica smiled gratefully down at her friend and then looked back to Ross once more.  Not only was Monica responsible for Rachel, but, in a way, she was now responsible for her older brother, too.  They both needed her now.  She was their anchor, their rock, their safe place in the eye of the storm called life.  "Ross, are you okay?"  She questioned.  "Do you want me to stay home?

In a mocking, saddened tone, Ross answered, "That'd be good."

Monica's face fell.  "Really?"

"No, go on!  It's Paul the Wine Guy!"

With Ross' humoring blessing, Monica eagerly went over to stand beside the door, waiting for the moment that Paul made his appearance.  From the kitchen table, Phoebe frowned in confusion.  "What does that mean?  Does he sell it, drink it, or just complain a lot?"

Chandler only shook his head, unable to find a proper response that did not involve a sarcastic comment.

Only a few moments later, there was a knock at the door and even though Monica already had her hand on the doorknob, she waited several additional seconds to ensure that she did not seem desperate to the stranger on the other side of the door.  As Sabrina watched Monica in her silly antics, she could not blame her.  She had once been there herself, waiting for the first time that she met Bradley.  That was nearly two years ago; she could hardly believe so much time had already passed.  She wished it would slow down.

Everyone quickly gathered near Monica as she slowly opened up the door to a tall, muscular man in a deep blue blazer and pressed dress pants.  He politely stepped carefully over the threshold and pulled her into a warm hug.  Monica was smiling so brightly when she pulled back, it had the power to light up the entire city nightlife.  "Hi, Paul, come in," She gushed, closing the door behind him.  Clearing her throat, she hastily turned around to introduce Sabrina and the gang to Paul, only to jump in surprise at realizing how close they now all stood to her.  The friends were always eager to meet someone new, even if Sabrina would not likely remember his name for at least another week . . . If his relevance lasted that long.  "Paul, this is everybody," Monica introduced.  "Everybody, this is Paul."

"Hey!  Paul!  Hi!  The Wine Guy!  Hey!"

And Chandler, being the smug little bastard that he was, stepped around the friend group and snorted.  "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," He joked.  "Paul, was it?"

Sabrina, Monica, and practically everyone else in the room rolled their eyes.  Monica then motioned Paul further into the apartment.  "Take a seat," She offered.  "Give me two seconds, I'll be right back."

As Paul went to take a seat in the living room and Monica quickly disappeared into her bedroom to change, Sabrina remained lounging against the kitchen countertop, her second sandwich now long gone.  Also standing in the kitchen, unsure of where else to go, was none other than Rachel.  Without a word, she carefully stepped towards where Sabrina rested, all the while ensuring that she kept an appropriate amount of distance between them.  Sabrina could almost laugh at how uncomfortable Rachel appeared to be in such a warm, welcoming home.

"It's okay, I don't bite," She reassured.

Rachel's cheeks burned red and she let out a quiet chuckle.  "Sorry," She said, leaning into the counter.  "I just . . ."

"I understand," Sabrina soothed, helping Rachel find the words.  "I'm Sabrina, by the way.  If you had forgotten from this afternoon."

"Yeah, um, sorry about that," Rachel apologized meekly.  "There was a lot of names, really fast, I just really couldn't keep up.  I was just lucky that I remembered Monica's name."  She cracked a small smile.  "I'm Rachel."

"I know."

"God, of course, you do.  I'm sorry.  My mind is a bit all over the place."

Sabrina laughed softly.  "Don't worry about it," She comforted.  "It's a lot to take in.  Just know if you need anything don't hesitate to ask.  I live two floors up.  Apartment 43.  But I'm usually always here, anyways, so you should never have to look too far."

Rachel exhaled a sigh of relief, finally seeming to calm her nerves for the first time since arriving in Manhattan this morning.  "Thanks, Sabrina."

As Sabrina and Rachel continued to converse, their small bubble of privacy was popped by the abrupt arrival of Phoebe who currently held out her palm in alarm.  "I just pulled out four eyelashes," She announced.  "That can't be good."

Sabrina glanced from Phoebe and then over to Paul who was still awaiting Monica's return.  He, too, was now entranced by the Spanish speaking soap opera.  Then, quietly, under her breath, Sabrina said to Phoebe, "Maybe it's a sign that Paul the Wine Guy isn't the one for Mon."

"Maybe," Phoebe agreed with a sharp nod of her head.  "It also could mean that the world is going to end."

Sabrina remained unfazed, but Rachel frowned at the sudden change of topic in the Buffay girl.  It was going to be a long, long time before Rachel truly understood the underlying workings of the friend group.  Hell, even Joey was still struggling a bit, every now and then occasionally stepping over a line that was not meant to be crossed.  But no one could really blame him.  Joey was Joey and they all loved him for it.

"So, Rachel."  All three women turned at the sound of Ross' voice as he crossed over to join them in their huddle.  His attention was entirely on the girl beside Sabrina; it was as if Phoebe and her no longer existed.  "What're you . . . What're you up to tonight?" He wondered.

Rachel pouted her lips.  "Well, I was kind of supposed to be heading for Aruba on my honeymoon . . ." She trailed off and then shrugged.  "So, nothing!"

Ross quickly sent her an apologetic look and smacked himself lightly in the face.  "Right, you're not even getting your honeymoon . . . No, no, God!  I'm sorry, don't listen to me.  Although, Aruba, this time of year . . . yeah, talk about your . . . big lizards and—"

Sabrina coughed.  "Ross."

"Anyways." Ross tugged awkwardly at the collar of his shirt.  His face was growing redder by the second and Sabrina was both growing tired of the train wreck falling before her.  "If you don't feel like being alone tonight," He continued slowly.  "Joey and Chandler are coming over to help me put together my new furniture."

Standing a bit further behind Ross, Chandler scoffed.  "Yes, and we're very excited about it," He deadpanned.

Rachel smiled politely, but ultimately shook her head.  "Well, thanks, Ross," She replied.  "But I think I'm just going to hang out here tonight . . . It's been kind of a long day."

Ross nodded his head in understanding and fell quiet in silent disappointment, opting not to push the girl anymore.  Without another word, Rachel then stepped away from the kitchen countertop and made her way back into the living room.  Sabrina and the four remaining friends watched her go and all was quiet until Joey turned eagerly to Phoebe.  "Hey, Pheebs, you want to help us?" He questioned.

"Oh, I wish I could." Phoebe waved a hand.  "But I don't want to."

Not missing a beat, Joey's eyes promptly shifted to Sabrina's next.  "Brina?"

Sabrina tilted her head in confusion.  "What happened to the game?"

"Change of plans.  We're still getting a drink, but we're taking the booze on a cruise . . . to Ross' new apartment," Joey informed, smiling excitedly at her.  "Are you in?"

For a moment, Sabrina Munoz contemplated.  Then, she immediately thought better of it.  If she bothered going back to her apartment now, she would not be getting sleep any time soon, anyways.  Sabrina shrugged her shoulders.

"Beers and remodeling?  Sure, why not.  Lead the way, Tribbiani."

~~~~~~~~~~

a couple that eats and talks about sandwiches together stays together.

even if they're not a couple yet.

also, let #rachina rise.

wowow these chapters are going to be so incredibly long sometimes, i hope y'all can handle them and aren't getting bored! i honestly enjoy writing this story so much already and it's only the second chapter! it's such a stress reliever because i have no problem writing the scenes. friends is one of my favorite shows of all time. the friend group is so iconic and i would die for all of them. i hope you all think that sabrina is integrated well with them!

so, anyways, back to sabrina, what are you all thinking of her character? she's got a little baggage that she tries to hide, but so does everyone else! how long do you think it will take before she finally starts to crack? we also got to see a bit of sabrina's home life, so what did you think of that? thoughts on big sister adrienne?? anyways, i hope you all enjoyed this second chapter!  what are y'all thinking?? what do you hope to see from sabrina and her friends?? i'd love to hear your thoughts and what you'd like to see next! so please, leave some votes and comments because your girl would really appreciate it! thanks for reading!

i hope y'all are having a lovely day/night, and are staying healthy and safe!

--B.

( gif created by sonatastark )