Chapter 1: Oh My God!
"Eight a.m. class!"
Emma Taylor jolted awake to her alarm, groaning in despair. She'd pulled three all-nighters straight to finish her hundred-slide PowerPoint, and today was presentation day!
"Won't kill me, won't kill me..." she muttered, racing through her morning routine: making the bed, getting dressed, washing up, grabbing breakfast, touching up her makeup—only to trip on the stairs and send her bag flying. Cursing her rotten luck, she gathered everything up, then saw her phone screen shattered like a spiderweb. "Are you kidding me? I literally just bought this yesterday!" She wanted to cry.
But she was running out of time. She crammed everything back in her bag and sprinted toward the classroom, running as fast as she could—yet still arrived late.
"Miss Taylor! How many times is that this week?" Professor Williams barked from the podium. A heavyset, thick-glasses middle-aged man, he radiated severity and rigidity. Emma despised him. He invented endless ways to track attendance, impossible to dodge. His stern expression always made her stomach drop.
"In that case, you'll present first!" He stepped aside. Reluctantly, Emma approached the front and rummaged through her bag for her flash drive—nowhere to be found. "That's weird, I know I brought it... did it fall out when I tripped? Just my luck." She kept searching.
"Professor, could I run back to my dorm real quick? I swear I had it with me."
Professor Williams's eyebrows shot up in displeasure.
"All you ever do is slack off! You're a junior—you'll be a senior next year! Have you even thought about your future? You're going to end up living in your parents' basement! Sit down. Zero for today's presentation."
Emma felt completely wronged. She wasn't a slacker—she'd just aced her GRE and gotten a near-perfect score on her practice LSATs sophomore year. Only Professor Williams's elective course seemed designed to torture students. Her tardiness had legitimate reasons; this week had been freakishly unlucky. Four absences meant this grade was crucial—without it, she'd fail the course. The professor never budged on grades. Clutching her bag strap tightly, Emma walked out.
"Jerk!" she muttered once she was safely outside.
Fuming, she headed back to her dorm, ordered Seamless, and opened her tablet. "I'll be there for you..." Whenever her emotions ran high, she binged Friends. The cozy vibes were everything she needed. Soon her food arrived.
It was the Season Four finale—she'd lost count of how many times she'd rewatched it.
Even the takeout betrayed her. It tasted terrible and she tossed half of it. As Ross stood at the altar facing Emily and accidentally said Rachel's name, drowsiness hit her hard. She closed the tablet and climbed into bed—then her phone rang.
"Hello..."
"How you doin'?" came the familiar pickup line.
"What?"
No reply, only laughter echoing through the line.
"Weirdo." She hung up and drifted off to sleep, completely unaware that her room was fading to gray around her. Her powered-off tablet flickered back to life, paused on Friends: Joey's bedroom. He lay asleep, a girl beside him—as the camera zoomed in closer, it was Emma!
Emma didn't know how long she'd been asleep. She only knew that the bed felt unusually soft today—and smelled weird, like stale pizza and cheap cologne.
She stretched lazily, and as her arm shot out, it bumped into something warm and solid.
Confused, she looked over and found her hand resting on a man's bare back—on a naked guy! She glanced down at herself in horror: she was naked too!
"Ahhhhh!" she screamed.
"Wh-what's happening?!" Joey shot upright, lost his balance, and tumbled off the bed completely exposed.
"What's going on?" Chandler, who shared the apartment, burst in without knocking—and froze at the sight of a naked guy sprawled on the floor and a panicked naked girl in the bed.
"Oh my God!" He fled immediately.
Emma hadn't even seen him. She was covering her eyes with both hands. Joey scrambled to pull on his boxers and jeans.
"What's wrong with you?" Joey grumbled.
Emma slowly lowered her hands. Taking in his familiar face and the apartment's layout... "Joey Tribbiani?" she ventured carefully.
"Yeah."
"And that was... Chandler Bing?"
"Yeah!" Joey exclaimed, surprised—he definitely hadn't introduced this girl to Chandler.
"I must be dreaming." Emma flopped back down and pulled the comforter over her head.
"Hey, listen, we're both up anyway and I've got an audition in like an hour. Could you maybe head out? I'll totally call you later."
Something felt very wrong. Emma clutched the comforter to herself, sat up, and—staring at Joey's dopey, confused grin—slapped herself hard across the face. Joey's eyes went wide and he instinctively grabbed his own cheek.
Emma cupped her stinging face, tears welling up. "Ow..."
"Yeah, I could've told you that would hurt," Joey said defensively.
"Ahhhhh!" Emma screamed again. What the hell was happening?!
"Ahhhhh!" Joey joined in, bolting from the room and nearly knocking over Chandler, who had settled resignedly on the couch.
"Could you be any louder?" Chandler drawled.
"Dude, that girl's insane!" Joey curled up on his recliner. Chandler patted him sympathetically.
Once she'd calmed down enough to function, Emma dressed quickly and walked out of the bedroom.
Joey refused to look at her. Only Chandler watched her approach.
Chandler stood up cautiously.
"Hi—is there still a crazy person in there?" he asked.
Still reeling, Emma forced herself to focus. She looked at the cowering Joey.
"Joey?"
Joey scrunched down further, muttering, "She can't see me... can't see me..."
"Joey, I need to ask you something important."
Joey peeked out with one eye.
"Did we... did we sleep together last night?" Emma asked awkwardly.
Joey wavered. "We could say we didn't..."
Emma buried her face in her hands. The gesture made Joey flinch and curl up tighter.
"Oh come on, Joey—you slept with a girl who didn't even know what she was doing?" Chandler cried, as though the family honor had been destroyed.
Joey shot him a wordless glare.
"No! We met at Central Perk! She seemed totally normal then!"
Emma could understand why he thought she was crazy.
"I'm sorry, I just... I'm far from home and dealing with a lot, and sometimes I get a little... disoriented," she improvised.
"Well, you sure weren't disoriented last night," Joey muttered, scooting closer to Chandler.
"Um... what's your name again?"
Emma wasn't sure what name to give. Looking at Joey's blank expression, she knew he definitely wouldn't remember.
"Emma. Emma Taylor."
Just then the door swung open—Monica walked in.
"Hey Mon, you're up early," Chandler said. A faint blush crossed Monica's face.
"Needed to borrow some milk. Oh, company—hi there!"
"Emma—not crazy," Joey interjected quickly.
"Oh, Emma, I'm Monica Geller."
"Are you making breakfast? I'm starving... and wow, you're even prettier in person," Emma said with wide, innocent eyes.
Monica hesitated for just a beat, then broke into a huge smile. "Well of course I am!"