Long Island, New York — The Geller Residence
Wednesday, July 21st, 2010 – 8:47 PM
In one of the upstairs bedrooms, the warm ceiling lamp light reflected off neatly arranged posters and containers labeled with surgical precision.
Everything was in its place. Sneakers aligned by color, sportswear folded in perfect thirds, and a planner with color-coded tabs resting on the nightstand.
There, sitting at her desk, was Monica Geller. Sixteen years old, straight dark hair, fair skin, and light blue eyes that, when focused on something, did so with intimidating intensity.
She wore a light gray tracksuit and a black headband holding back her hair as she organized a collection of homemade protein snacks she had prepared earlier that afternoon.
Her hands moved with a mix of method and obsession. She had a mental list, a plan, and as always, she needed everything to go perfectly.
Behind her, lying on the bed, surrounded by shiny clothes, sandals, two pairs of sunglasses, and an open fashion magazine, was Rachel Green.
"Look at this top!" Rachel exclaimed, pulling a top from her pink suitcase. "Does this scream 'San Diego, sexy summer' or 'girl who got lost in Forever 21'?"
Rachel's bright blonde hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Her skin, glowing from a recent tan, contrasted with a tight white tank top.
Her blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and drama, as if every item she had packed had a story behind it. She was barefoot, legs crossed, and pulling clothes out of her pastel pink suitcase nonstop.
"Seriously? You're messing up your whole suitcase… Our flight to San Diego is early tomorrow, we can't be late. My mom is super strict about that," said Monica without stopping her organizing.
"Relax, control queen," Rachel replied with a dismissive hand gesture. "I'll have everything neat before we go to sleep…"
Rachel kept showing her outfit after outfit. Monica commented patiently, though every now and then, her eyelid twitched. Until she couldn't take it anymore.
"What is this, Doraemon's suitcase?"
Rachel laughed, recognizing the reference to the cartoon they used to watch as kids.
"Besides, we're only going for four days, not a month," Monica added, shaking her head.
"Oh, please! Don't be such a buzzkill. What did you pack?" Rachel asked, jumping to her feet.
"Just what I need for four days. Take a look if you want, but don't mess anything up."
"Hmm, how boring. I won't touch your suitcase, I value my life," Rachel said, walking closer to her friend.
Then she stopped and looked at her. Even though she saw her every day at school, it still surprised her.
Monica had changed. A lot.
They'd been friends since childhood, back when they played with dolls in the backyard and watched cartoons while eating ice cream straight from the tub.
Back then, Monica had always been the fat girl at school, the one who sweated during gym class, wore oversized shirts, and weighed more than most of the boys.
And yet, Rachel had never been ashamed to be her friend.
Sometimes she didn't know how to defend her, Rachel wasn't great at arguing or standing up for people, but if someone mocked her, turned their back, or whispered, she'd try to make up for it: with a smile, a hug, or simply walking beside Monica so people knew they were together.
But now… now things were different.
Since two year, when she started following that fitness YouTuber, Monica had transformed. Her body changed completely. She had strength, energy, a new confidence. She didn't walk hunched over anymore, didn't laugh quietly, didn't stare at the floor all the time.
Now she had a slim, athletic figure. And with her new look and attitude, even the popular girls were intimidated by her, and several boys who once ignored her were now drooling over her.
Rachel, still as popular as ever, felt a strange mix of pride, a twinge of jealousy, and surprise. Monica was now strong, determined, self-assured… and she didn't even fully realize it yet.
"You should have a boyfriend, you know? A lot of guys in our grade have asked you out and you turned them down," Rachel blurted out suddenly, like she was getting a thought off her chest.
Monica raised an eyebrow, not taking her eyes off her snacks. "What for? They're all undisciplined idiots… and, let's be honest, half of them used to make fun of me about three years ago…"
Rachel nodded, acknowledging she was right. Though she didn't like to admit it, most of the guys drooling over Monica now were the same ones who used to call her "muffin legs" back in seventh grade.
She stayed silent for a few seconds, until she couldn't hold back. She crossed her arms and smiled mischievously.
"You're not, like… totally in love with a certain disciplined fitness YouTuber who just so happens to have an entire section of healthy cooking videos, are you?"
Monica spun around immediately, as if someone had poked her with a needle.
"What?! No! Come on, Rachel, it's not like that. I'm just a fan. I respect him. He inspires me. That's it!"
Rachel flopped onto the bed with a teasing smile, resting her head on a pillow. "Uh-huh… sure. So, if you're not into him, then what kind of guy is your type? What are your standards?"
Monica took a second to answer. Her fingers kept arranging the snacks, but her eyes had drifted off a little.
"I don't know. I guess… someone who doesn't underestimate me. Who's not lazy. Someone who trains both his body and his mind. Who isn't afraid of working hard for something. And… who doesn't look at me like I'm some kind of trophy."
"Whoa, that's a pretty high bar…" Rachel said, though she kept thinking about her friend's words.
She rolled onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands. Her blue eyes searched Monica's face.
"I still don't get why you want to go to that meet-up again. We're an hour away from the hotel, an hour, Monica! We're two blocks from the most famous beach in San Diego, with guys in swimsuits, white sand, and you want to travel an hour to lock yourself in a mall full of sweaty teenagers just to say hi to him for five minutes."
"So what?" Monica said, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, I have to give him these."
"Snacks? Again with the snacks? Let him make them himself! You told me you already gave him the recipe over the phone!" Rachel exclaimed.
"Remember? The coincidence of how you got his number?" she added, lifting both hands and making air quotes.
"It was a tactic, that's all…" Monica defended herself. "Whatever. He told me he tried to make them with his dad, but they didn't turn out well. So I'm bringing him more. And I have to take advantage that my parents just happen to want to visit the San Diego beaches, all thanks to Ross and his nerd convention."
"Fine… I give in. I'll join you on a hot, sweaty journey through public transportation…" said Rachel, giving in with a dramatic sigh.
"Besides, you've always liked cute guys, Rachel. Don't lie to me! You know Andrew is cute. And way better than Chip," said Monica, trying to convince her, and to make her think the long trip wouldn't be for nothing.
"Ugh…" Rachel flopped onto her back with a groan. "Chip again?"
"Yes. And Chip is a brainless jock who can barely throw a decent pass in a Division 4 league. We were lucky to even make the playoffs! Forget about winning a regional or state title. Meanwhile, Andrew was recruited by Mater Dei, Rachel. The elite of the elite! And in his first two years, he scored over 100 touchdowns! And you, a cheerleader, don't want to meet someone like that?"
Rachel stared at the ceiling. "I know all that… you made me watch his videos like it was a TV show…"
"So?" said Monica, crossing her arms and glaring at her.
"So… yeah. I'm a little curious. I admit it," said Rachel, raising her hands.
"Aha!" Monica exclaimed, like she had just won an ideological war.
"But!" Rachel raised a finger. "It's a one-hour trip and that place is going to be packed. If you're lucky, you'll get a photo and talk to him for two minutes like last year…"
"Yes, but you're curious, I knew it. Andrew is Andrew," said Monica, satisfied.
Her idol couldn't lose to Chip Matthews, a mediocre Division 4 quarterback who barely managed ten touchdowns in a season.
Rachel rolled her eyes with a smile. "Yeah, yeah, celebrate all you want. But unlike other athletes, he seems… I don't know. Like you. Obsessed with control. With schedules, routines, weights, carefully measured meals. I get exhausted just watching him. He looks like the kind of guy who plans the exact number of seconds he needs to sleep."
Monica laughed, "And that doesn't sound attractive to you?"
Rachel looked at her seriously and shook her head. "No. It sounds exhausting. And boring."
Monica slowly turned to her, as if Rachel had just insulted her parents, her pet, and her kitchen in one sentence.
"Boring?" she repeated, offended.
"Yes. Boring," Rachel repeated with complete seriousness, raising an eyebrow. "What? Are you his defense attorney now?"
"No. I'm his number one fan and I won't let anyone slander him," Monica snapped, clicking her tongue in annoyance. She wasn't about to let anyone call her idol boring.
She opened her laptop and went to YouTube.
"What are you doing?" Rachel asked, stepping behind her and looking at the screen.
"I'm going to show you something," Monica said. "It's not on his channel. A guy uploaded it over a year ago: Steve69, yeah, super mature name. He's the star receiver from Palisades. Unreleased footage. I found it by chance when I was looking for old highlight clips of Andrew…"
"What is it? A six-pack routine with epic music?" Rachel laughed.
"No, just watch and judge for yourself," Monica said with a smile as she hit play.
The screen showed a grainy video, handheld footage recorded at night on the streets of Los Angeles. Four boys were walking unsteadily, laughing loudly.
One of them was Andrew, more younger. With him: a light brown-haired guy with an easy laugh wearing a Palisades shirt (Steve), a short guy with a mischievous-perv face (Howard), and another with glasses who looked somewhere between terrified and drunk (Leonard), the one filming, though sometimes he turned the camera on himself to scream nonsense.
"Who are the others?" Rachel asked. She recognized Andrew from the many videos she had watched.
"I only know two. The bowl-cut guy is Howard, the cameraman from last year's event. He shows up in a few videos… he's always filming Andrew, like some kind of personal minion. And the one who doesn't look like a nerd? That's Steve, Palisades' wide receiver, I already told you."
In the video, the four of them were walking down a nearly empty avenue, shouting:
"We must destroy the ring!" said Howard, swinging his arm with enthusiasm.
"For the Shire!" Steve yelled, hugging Howard.
Monica skipped ahead in the video until the group turned into an alley and encountered two bulky guys with a shady attitude.
Steve said, "Orcs! Sauron sent an ambush!"
Rachel laughed, "What the hell?"
On screen, Andrew stepped forward, his gait was wobbly, but his stance was determined. The men approached, thinking it was just a bunch of drunk teens. But Andrew confronted them with real strength.
With fast movements, he blocked one punch, dodged another, and managed to take both men down against the trash cans.
Howard screamed like he was in Helm's Deep, "Our modern-day Aragorn! The heir of Isildur!"
Steve grabbed Andrew by the shoulder, turned him toward the camera, and declared in an epic voice, "Here he is, ladies and gentlemen! The ranger of Los Angeles!"
Andrew smiled at the camera and raised his fist. "For Gondor! We're coming for you, filthy orcs!"
The video continued with a few more antics, nothing illegal, but definitely dangerous for themselves.
Rachel stayed silent.
Monica paused the video. She looked at her and smiled when she saw she was speechless. "Well? Still think he's boring?"
Rachel blinked. "Okay… maybe he's not that boring."
"Thank you!" Monica exclaimed, raising her arms to the sky. "I knew that scene had power."
"Whoa, you really are his fangirl. You defend him like he's your number one idol," said Rachel, amused, though her tone hinted that maybe, she was starting to look at the guy a little differently.
"He is my only idol. And you'd do the same for those idiot musicians you listen to," said Monica.
"What idiots?"
"I don't know, that emo band you used to like… My Chemical Something?"
"My Chemical Romance, thank you very much," Rachel replied dramatically. "That band saved our souls in ninth grade. And The Jonas Brothers too, though they're not as cool anymore."
"Right, and I'm the weird one for admiring a guy who trains, cooks, and saves his friends from orcs."
They both laughed. Rachel flopped back down on her pillow.
"So, the star quarterback of the elite high school team with over 100 touchdowns… is a nerd?" Rachel said, surprised.
"Apparently," Monica replied with a casual shrug. "He doesn't talk much about it on his main channel. Maybe a line here or there when someone comments something. But it's not part of his content. I guess he doesn't want to mix things."
Rachel raised an eyebrow, staring at the ceiling. "Do you think he'll go to that nerd convention in San Diego… like your brother?"
"You mean Comic-Con?" Monica frowned, thoughtful. "I don't know. I suppose he could go… but I'm not sure. I have no idea how geeky he really is. Like, is he just a casual fan or the kind who dresses up as his favorite characters?"
After a few more minutes of laughter, beachwear chatter, and promises not to oversleep, the two girls settled in for the night.
The next morning, an early flight to San Diego awaited them.
Of course, they weren't going alone.
Jack and Judy Geller, Monica and Ross's parents, were also making the trip. It was a four-day family vacation to the beaches of San Diego, taking advantage of the fact that both of their kids had specific interests in the state.
On one hand, Ross was excited to attend Comic-Con 2010, proudly carrying his laminated pass he had prepared months ago.
On the other hand, Monica had a personal mission: to attend the fan meet-up of the biggest sports channel on YouTube.
Rachel, as Monica's best friend, had been invited along. And since the Geller and Green families had known each other for years, her parents trusted the Gellers to take her on this vacation.
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