Chapter 32: I've Actually Become Part of the Problem?
When Bruce saw Nora approaching, he stepped forward. "Nora, we should head back to the table."
Nora acted as if she hadn't heard him. She moved closer. "Didn't you want to continue discussing narrative techniques? I think that kind of professional conversation is best held privately, don't you?" Her smile was knowing.
Bruce backed up until he nearly hit the wall. "Actually, Monica and Rachel have been trying to write too. Hearing your perspective would really encourage them!" He was still hoping to get Nora back to the group.
Nora kept moving forward. "Darling, do you know the secret to writing compelling intimate scenes? You have to draw from personal experience. And do you know how to gain that experience?"
Bruce caught the strong scent of her perfume and realized he was in trouble, his words stumbling. "I—I'm not sure, Nora. I mostly just use my imagination... and research..."
Nora raised a finger and gently pressed it to Bruce's lips to quiet him. "Bruce, tell me—you're so young, yet you've written several successful scripts. When you write those... special scenes, does your inspiration come from imagination alone, or... from personal experience?" Her breath carried wine and perfume.
Every alarm in Bruce's head went off. He'd only wanted to make sure nothing happened between her and Ross—he hadn't anticipated this. He tried to back away, but the wall was already against his back.
"I... my ideas usually come from observation... and reading..." Bruce's throat felt dry.
"Observation?" Nora laughed softly, her finger sliding across his cheek. "Such a scholarly answer. Let me tell you—real research means becoming the protagonist yourself..." Her eyes were intense as she leaned in closer.
Bruce knew he had to stop this now. He turned his head aside, trying to escape. "Nora—wait!"
Too late! With unexpected determination, Nora moved toward his lips.
Pure instinct made Bruce lean back sharply and throw his left hand up to protect his face.
Mmph!
Something warm and soft pressed against his palm.
Time seemed to stop. Bruce could feel Nora's lips against his hand—it was absurd and horrifying. His body froze, heart pounding.
Nora herself paused, clearly surprised to have kissed a hand instead.
In that suffocating moment, the restroom door opened.
Bruce jerked his hand back and stumbled away, increasing the distance between them. His palm felt like it was burning.
He turned toward the door with dread—Ross stood there, water droplets on his face from washing up. Bruce would never forget Ross's expression: complete shock, disbelief, and the stunned look of someone witnessing something unbelievable. Ross had clearly seen Nora's attempted kiss and Bruce's defensive hand-block.
Bruce's only thought: This is worse than what I was trying to prevent! Trying to change things just landed me in an even more ridiculous situation.
"Uh... I... forgot something..." Ross's voice was strained. He quickly retreated back into the restroom and shut the door, leaving Bruce and Nora in an awkward silence.
Nora glanced at the hand she'd kissed, then at Bruce's panicked expression. The wine-induced confidence faded slightly, replaced by a mix of embarrassment and amusement before her composure returned.
"Looks like..." Her gaze moved between the hand and Bruce's face. "...your defensive reflexes are pretty impressive. Does that count as hands-on research, Bruce?"
She gave a soft laugh and walked away, leaving Bruce frozen in place, staring at his palm.
The moment Nora left, Bruce rushed into the restroom. Ross was at the sink, splashing cold water on his face. When he saw Bruce, he spun around and stared, voice cracking: "Bruce! What just happened out there? Nora almost... and you used your hand... Did I drink too much? Am I seeing things?"
Bruce leaned against the door and took a deep breath, feeling drained. He looked at his hand and gave a bitter laugh. "Ross, trust me, I wish this was a hallucination too. I swear I didn't do anything! She just... went for it. I didn't have time to think—instinct took over and I threw my hand up. Thank God my reflexes still work!"
Ross still looked shocked. "Why would she do that? She's Chandler's mom! And you were just standing there?"
"'Just standing there'?" Bruce's voice rose, then dropped. "Ross, I felt like a deer in headlights! When she came at me, my mind went blank. My back was literally against the wall. All I could do was put my hand up. What else could I do? She's Chandler's mom!" He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "My plan was to keep her from... I don't know, doing something she'd regret. I didn't expect her to target me!"
Ross calmed down somewhat, though he still looked confused. "What do you mean, 'keep her from doing something'? What does that have to do with anything?"
Bruce realized his slip and quickly recovered. "Nothing! I mean... I was trying to convince her to come back to the table and not... I don't know... do anything awkward. And then she came after me." He sighed heavily. "Look, Ross, I know how this looks. I need your help."
"My help? With what—explaining to Chandler that you heroically defended yourself against his mom?" Ross's tone mixed sarcasm with bewilderment.
"Exactly!" Bruce threw up his hands. "The thing is, I have to tell Chandler. But how? 'Hey, your mom tried to kiss me, but I blocked it with my hand'? That sounds insane!"
He looked at Ross desperately. "I need a witness to confirm I didn't start this, that I... resisted! Even if the resistance was kind of... absurd." He glanced at his palm again.
Ross studied Bruce's miserable, earnest expression. The shock slowly transformed into reluctant sympathy.
He sighed. "Alright, Bruce. This whole thing is crazy, but I saw it—Nora made the move, you blocked it with your hand. If Chandler asks, I'll tell him exactly that. Though I still don't understand why you were out there discussing writing techniques with her!" He paused, serious. "The real question is, how are you going to tell Chandler?"
Bruce's face fell. "That's what's killing me! If I tell him, it feels like I'm tattling on his mom. If I don't, and he finds out some other way, it'll look like I was hiding something. Either way, it's not fair to him."
Ross thought for a moment. "Chandler's relationship with his mom is... complicated. He already knows what she's like. As a friend, honesty is better than keeping secrets. Telling him yourself shows respect and trust. As for Nora—you're not responsible for her choices. She crossed a line, not you." He patted Bruce's shoulder. "Come on, we need to get back. Remember: she made a move, you defended yourself, nothing happened. And stop being so cryptic about your weird premonitions!"
Bruce nodded, still feeling heavy. "Thanks, Ross. Really. Sorry about dragging you into this."
Ross waved it off. "Forget it. Tonight could be a TV episode. Just figure out what you're going to say to Chandler."
Just then the restroom door opened and Joey's curious face appeared. "Hey! You two having a private meeting in here? Chandler says his mom's been gone forever and sent me to check if she's okay... Have either of you seen Nora?" Joey's eyes moved between Bruce's pale face and Ross's complicated expression.
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