Recommended song to listen to while reading: going to end up alone. Like me. Pretty girl like you, would be a shame for that to happen. You need to get out there, meet people, date.

The pale yellow ceramic bowl sat untouched on the coffee table before her. The vanilla ice cream, with the butterscotch topping, was slowly melting into a messy mixture of yellow and off white. Comfort food wasn't offering comfort. Drawing her legs up her chest, Izzie rests her chin in the hollow created between her knees. She shivers slightly, the oversized t shirt she had thrown on doing nothing to keep her warm. The heels of her feet dig into the couch cushion, raising the side up a bit. Sighing, she lets her legs drop back down to the floor, her head falling back. One lone tear rolls down her cheek. She never should have listened to that old man. No. That wasn't entirely fair. His words had been honest, they had been the truth. It wasn't his fault she had accepted a date with a known man whore. Or that said man whore had taken her to an Italian restaurant where they served a liberal amount of wine with the dinner.

A creak on the stairs catches her attention. Slouching further down on the couch, Izzie peers over the arm, her eyes widening a bit. Hair flying in every direction, blouse only half way buttoned, shoes in hand, Lexie Grey came storming down the stairs. Alex wasn't far behind her. They both wore dark scowls, as though an argument had transpired.

"You're a real prick, you know that?" Lexie hissed. If Alex was going to justify the remark he didn't get his chance. Letting out a gush of air, Lexie slammed out of the house, the glass in the door rattling as the door .

"Nice to see some things don't change," Izzie snickered, tucking her feet underneath her. She wasn't going to judge. It wasn't up to her who Alex brought home, or what he did with them. Their past was just that, the past.

"She'll get over it." Alex dropped next to her, his thigh brushing against her feet. "You going to eat that or watch it melt?" He nods toward the ice cream.

"Help yourself." She shifts positions, pulling the shirt as far down over her thighs as possible. Small purple bruises were already starting to come up on her outer thighs were Mark had gripped them. A flush creeps up her face, a sickening feeling twisting in her stomach. "So, what exactly is it she is suppose to get over?"

"That I'm not interested." He groans slightly as he dribbles half melted ice cream and butterscotch syrup off the spoon and into his opened mouth. She looks away, hating the thoughts that came to mind. In her bed, upstairs, was a naked Mark Sloan. A clearly just fucked Lexie Gray had stormed out of here. Time for thinking about Alex, ice cream, and butterscotch syrup was gone. Done. Never again. "Sometimes, I feel like I must have Fixer Upper tattooed on my forehead."

"You're fine the way you are. You shouldn't have to change for someone to love you." The words are almost murmured as she lays her head back once more, closing her eyes. The sickening in her stomach kept churning even more. "Alex? We're friends right?" Turning her head, opening her eyes, she stares at him.

"Yeah. I guess you could call us that." He licks more ice cream from the spoon.

"I mean, the kind of friends that talk." Izzie maneuvers herself until she is sitting with her back to the arm of the sofa, her legs crossed over one another.

"Is that what you want? For us to be the kind of friends who talk?" The spoon clatters against the side of the bowl as he sets it back on the coffee table, empty this time. He looks at her, his light brown eyes intense.

"Yeah. I do. I really need a friend right now." Izzie blinks, hating the burn in her eyes. "My life is so fucked up. I am so tired of everything being fucked up. When does it stop? When do I stop? It seems like all I do is fuck up. First, I make you feel like crap…which I'm sorry, so sorry Alex…and then I kill Denny. No, I know, I didn't kill him, kill him, but I might as well have. Then, I screwed up with things with George. I slept with him, Alex. I slept with George. George! To make matters worse, I convinced myself I had to be in love with him. Some sort of sick twisted justification, I guess. And, now, I have Mark. Upstairs. In my bed. All because some patient said I needed to date and Mark was the first guy to ask afterwards."

Alex stares at her. An odd look crossed over his face. "Wow. Can't say I was ready for that. Okay, well, you don't have to apologize to me. I was…am…an ass. I've had worse things said to me than the stuff you threw at me. And, in a way, I had it coming. I said some not so nice things to. As for the rest of it…We can't live our whole life around one moment, or a mistake. Where would that get us? No where. What's the use in living if we're not going anywhere?"

It was her turn to stare. The tip of her tongue darts out, running across her lips. Whatever she had been expecting, that wasn't it. Part of her had wanted him to yell at her, to confirm that her life was as fucked up as she made it out to be. Instead, he had pretty much told her to get over it, to move on. "What if we don't like the direction we're going?"

"You change directions. Life is only as complicated as you let it be. Damn. Now I'm sounding like one of those talk show shrinks." Alex chuckles, rubbing his thumb over his chin where a dribble of ice cream had fell.

"No. You're right. I make things complicated. I just…I don't know how to do uncomplicated. I don't know how to be...that girl. The one who just…" She trails off. There was no explaining why she didn't sleep around. Not unless she wanted to delve into the Hannah issue. She wasn't ready for that. Not yet. Some day, but not today. "I just have to make things uncomplicated. Just…go with the flow. Stop worrying about mistakes."

"Right. Cause if you think about it, nothing is ever really a mistake. At some point it was exactly what you wanted." Alex's gaze traveled to the stairs. "Unless you want me to kick his ass."

Izzie laughs softly, shaking her head. "No. You're right. I think a part of me knew it would end up like this. I mean, he's Mark. He doesn't ever just ask a woman out on a date."

"Yeah, but you're not just any woman. Who knows, maybe he's changed." Alex flops back on the end of the sofa, closing his eyes. One arm falls over his face. A moment later a soft snore slips past his lips. She smiles faintly, then pulls the chenille throw from the back of the sofa, draping it over him.

"I think you're the one who changed." Izzie stares down at his sleeping form, tugging on the hem of the shirt. It had once been his. She wonders if that was a sign or something. She shrugs the thought off, padding across the living room and up the stairs. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach eases a bit. Life was short. Alex was right about that. Taking a deep breath, she slides back into the bed, trying not to flinch when Mark's arm wraps around her waist.