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“Have you ever kissed a girl?” Rachel asks one day, out of the blue. It takes Monica by surprise. Of course it does.
Her blonde hair has several brightly coloured hair rollers messily rolled into it, makeup having been washed off for the night. It's a slumber party at Monica’s so she's already in her PJs; a frilly silk tank top and baggy shorts she found in Monica’s dresser. Monica is clad in the same matching top, only her bottom half is covered by old pyjama pants she’d found at the back of her drawers.
Monica blinks at Rachel from where she’s sitting on the bed, wondering if she was dreaming. “What?” She chuckles awkwardly.
On the carpet floor, Rachel looks up from her freshly painted fingernails to roll her eyes. “You heard me. Have you ever kissed a girl?” She asks, only a little frustrated this time as if she needed the details.
Monica blinks once again, dumbfounded. “Um, no. I haven't.” She hasn't kissed anyone, but she leaves that very pathetic detail out of her reply. “Have you?”
Rachel laughs. She laughs like the question is the funniest thing she's ever heard. “Have I?”
“That is what I asked,” Monica replies, forcing herself to laugh with her. She never knows what to do around Rachel so opts to mirroring her every move to maintain some sort of structure in their dynamic.
In one far from graceful move, Rachel rises from her position on the floor, ambling over to the bed. She flops down on her side, propping her head up with one hand, the other laid in front. She sighs. “Nope.”
They sit in silence for a moment as if mentally preparing themselves for what? Monica isn't sure. She shuffles around, swinging her legs up to cross them. Rachel glances down and smiles at her fluffy Christmas socks.
“Would you ever do it?” Monica asks before she can even think about it. The question somehow slips off the tip of her tongue like a pleasantry. “Kiss a girl, I mean.”
Now Rachel’s caught off guard, eyes gone comically wide. Her mouth is ajar; Monica isn't so blunt. She tends to wiggle around her questions rather than ask them upfront.
“I dunno,” Rachel answers honestly with a lame shrug of her shoulders. She sits up properly, facing Monica, pulling her knees up to her chest. She rests her chin on her knees, staring at Monica like she has something else to add but won't come out with it. “Maybe if it was someone like.. you.”
There's a little part of Monica that’s jumping up and down out of glee at that, proud to be someone that Rachel would (maybe) kiss sometime. A lot of guys in their school, including Ross, are desperate to join the ranks of those Rachel Green has kissed or wants to kiss. Although, there's another part wondering why her of all people. Is it because she's a pushover, or something? Monica doesn't think she's a pushover. Of course not!
“Thank.. you?” Monica replies, trying to push the giddiness deep down to avoid seeming too excited. It's not like Rachel would actually kiss her. She has plenty of guys to make out with. “Why’re you asking anyway?”
At that, Rachel averts her gaze from Monica to stare at the ceiling like a kid who's guilty of stealing a cookie from a cookie jar. She taps her lips as if she were conjuring up an incredible thought but Monica knows better than that. “No reason in particular.”
And Monica leaves it at that. After that, they go on with the rest of the evening; Monica’s dad brings them snacks while her mother supplies face masks and more nail polish for Rachel to try on Monica. It's around eleven when she starts and they both sit on the floor just in case they stain the bed with nail polish. It's a pretty maroon that Rachel claimed would complement her complexion and, in all honesty, it does.
There's not much to paint because of Monica’s terrible habit to bite her nails in fraught situations such as entering Ross’ untidy room. Really, it's horrendous. Rachel doesn't seem to mind, tongue poking out from in between her glossy pink lips as she concentrates on painting. It takes about half an hour for the first hand, and then she finally moves onto the next. This is going to take a while.
“Can I get something to eat?” Monica asks as she already begins to reach for the nearby bag of chips, to which Rachel gasps and swats her hand away.
“Don't!” She snaps, brows furrowed in whag Monica can only imagine is distraught. “You'll ruin all my hard work!”
Hard work, my ass is what Monica wants to say as she looks at her messy nails but she bites her tongue instead, the insult dying down in favour of looking at Rachel work.
Monica knows Rachel is pretty; everyone thinks so. She never quite understood until now because she never took the time to look. Her eyelashes flutter as she inspects Monica’s nails. Rose tinted cheeks and lips so pink they almost look unreal. Her eyes remain fixed on Rachel’s lips, entranced. She feels herself being pulled in like a fish on a hook, mesmerised.
“Do you want to try kissing a girl?” Monica says, trying and failing to muster up all the nonchalance she can. It comes out too fast, too high-pitched for Rachel to process.
The blonde glances up, bemused. “What was that, Mon? You're talkin’ too fast again.”
Monica sighs, then, slowly this time, repeats her question. “Do you want to try.. kissing a girl?” Her eyes slam shut out of instincts so she doesn't have to see Rachel’s expression. Disgusted, maybe. Angry, as well.
There's an incredibly uncomfortable silence permeating all throughout Monica’s room. She wants to apologise and then let her take her leave before eating away her regret and utter dismay. Rachel will probably go home and make a quick phone call to whoever's awake, spread about the fake news that Monica is a raging homo and positively ruin her life. Oh, god, she's doomed.
“Sure, why not?” Rachel replies with all the nonchalance that Monica failed to display. He screws the lid of the nail polish back on.
“Wait, really?”
It's important to note that all Monica has seen and heard about kissing is from what Rachel describes and romance films. Apart from that, she has no experience. She knows how a kiss works, of course. One pair a lips on another then bam! A kiss. But when she is faced with Rachel’s lips (of all lips!) she panics and sits there as still as a rock. Rachel seems to be trying her hardest to make it work but with one end of the kiss barely functioning, she pulls away.
“Mon, you gotta kiss back for this to work,” Rachel instructs, her voice not quite thick with annoyance but there's certainly no excitement. “It's like kissing a dead body!”
Affronted, Monica gasps. “You caught me off guard! If you'd warned me, then I could've been a bit more prepared,” she snaps.
“Fine then. Here, I'm gonna kiss you. Pucker up.” She slowly leans forward, and presses her lips to Monica’s.
It's more gentle than the first, so Monica gets a chance to reciprocate. At first she doesn't know what to do with her hands until they gravitate towards Rachel’s cheeks. They're warm. Monica pushes forward, parting only for a second for a breath because she can't stop kissing Rachel. If she stops then it all ends. Rachel will be finished with her little experiment and go her own way. She doesn't care if it lasts another five seconds— as long as she gets to kiss Rachel Green a little while longer.
Their lips stay interlocked for another few moments before Rachel hums, signalling that she's pulling away. When she does, Monica can't help the unsolicited whine that slips past her lips at the loss but if Rachel notices, she doesn't say a thing.
There's been an overwhelming amount of awkward silences so far which is why Monica rushes to comment on her nails rather than dwell on the kiss. Even if it was the best experience she'd had in all her life. Even if the butterflies in her stomach lingered for a few moments following because of how amazing it was.
She’s just about to compliment Rachel's nail-painting skills when the blonde in question hushes her, shaking her head and pressing a finger to Monica's lips. “Don't you pretend that didn't just happen.”
Monica prepares herself for some speech about how Rachel never wants to kiss any girl ever again. It's natural, isn't it? She’s tried it out, wasn't her thing so now she's going to hate women for the rest of her life. Great!
“That was…” She pauses, staring at the floor as she grasps for the right words to say. “That was really really good. It was so soft. Nice. Sweet. Did you like it? Better than whatever the hell the guys do.”
“Yeah,” Monica replies, dumbstruck by Rachel’s unexpected enthusiasm over the kiss. It was really good. She just didn't think Rachel would agree. “It was soft. Like a pillow to put my lips on.” She cringes at her own words.
“ Exactly ,” Rachel exclaims. “I could do that forever. Didn't peg you as a good kisser, Geller.”
Monica wants to reply with, neither did I, but fortunately decides against it. The kiss. It filled her with something, an emotion, she's not quite familiar with before. Sure, she's had her crushes on the hot guys at school but it's never been as… flowery and soft as this feeling. It burns like a match being lit, something has been set alight in her heart and she aches for more of it.
“I wanna do that again,” Monica states with a grin, watching Rachel mirror her own expression. “Please.”
Rachel nods and they kiss again. They kiss until they're tired and the moonlight shines through Monica’s bedroom window. The next morning, no one says a thing. They never talk about it. However, throughout the years, they kiss and kiss and kiss. They don't have to talk about it when there's a simple understanding that their feelings are reciprocated. No one knows but when they have their own group of friends and they eventually catch them, they don't care. They understand.