"Just gimme a minute…" I open up the car door and step out of it. It's 9:30 at night and I'm just now getting home. Today was of course another exhausting day at the hospital, but for some reason today was worse than yesterday was. My joints feel like they're going to unhinge at the bases and my entire body is just going to topple apart. I politely excuse my way through a crowd of men that are standing at the entrance of the apartment building smoking what smells like pot. I used to be scared out of my mind to come home at night because they all congregate right in front of the entrance to my building and I had a bad experience with them my first night here. They don't much bother me anymore, though. If I don't say anything to them they won't say anything to me.

I think me and the druggies that I live with are in the same boat when it comes to the fact that we don't want any problems with the law. It's like an unspoken little connection between all of us. The first night I moved into my place, I had to run down to the grocery store for a roll of toilet paper and a bag of chips for my dinner. I somehow managed to get lost in downtown Seattle so when I finally made my way home, it was late and dark like it is right now and the group of druggies were standing outside. Much like I had to do a minute ago, I had to push my way through the crowd to get in my house. They asked me what my name was, I told them it was Jo, they said they never seen me around before, I told them that I had just moved here, the one asked me if I wanted a little bit of what they were smoking on, I told them no. I messed around for a moment too long trying to find my house key and the tallest one of the group thought it was okay to grab my waist.

I gotta be honest when I say that I don't really consider myself a punk. I can hold my own in fights against boys….trust me, I can. But one' s hand was on my waist and the other had me by my arm. I vaguely remember telling them to get the hell off me as someone was trying to either unbutton my jeans or pull down my sweatpants—I don't remember which one. Put it this way, I DO know that somebody was trying to take my pants off me. I never threatened to call the cops but I don't really remember how I got them to leave me alone. I know that I managed to get out of that with just an unwanted kiss and a feel-up underneath my shirt, though. I can't really remember what stopped the two that were all over me from taking my pants off. I sort of remember hitting one's head off the wall…but that's all. I don't know.

Anyway, ever since then, I try to avoid coming home late at night like this. I yank open the door to my apartment building and lightly jog up the steps to the second floor, instinctively glancing over at the corner that's next to my front door. It's a habit for me to do that anymore. She's been gone since last month and I still find myself checking to see if she's okay. I wonder if I'll ever see her again. I'm 28 years old and I can remember a handful of people throughout my lifetime that I would like to see again. Brynn is one of those people I'd like to see again.

When I first moved here, Brynn was one of the first people I met. She would always stand in the corner beside my door because she lived right across the hall and nine times out of ten; she was locked out of her house because her mom wasn't home. I never did know her age but if I had to guess, I'd say she was more than three but no more than four. I think she was three. She still had a pacifier and she wore a diaper, but she was old enough to call me "Doh" and tell me her name was "Bin." Anyway, I came out of my house to put gas in my car the morning after my move and she was there. She stood knee-high and she looked like a porcelain baby doll. She had a little bit of curly dark brown hair and cream-colored skin with rosy cheeks. Brynn was often the reason I went to bed hungry at nights but I never minded because what I had was never much, but I felt like she should have it.

I don't know when, but sometime I gathered enough balls inside myself to call the cops and leave an anonymous tip that there was a baby outside of my apartment building that's being mistreated. I watched with delight out of my window the day that social services came and took Brynn away. I sometimes scare the shit out of myself when I think about the fact that she could've gone into foster care, but it's easy these days to talk myself into the fact that foster homes are NOT like they used to be. Then again, foster care had to be better than starving outside of the house that your mother never let you inside. Plus, Brynn was an adorable little baby so it'd be easy for her to get adopted. The image of her waving at me through my window saying, "Buh-bye Doh" is still burned in the back of my head, but whatever. Like I said, I've only been living here for three months but I have stories to tell for weeks about this three month binge.

I grab a grocery store bag from underneath my kitchen sink and go into my bedroom with it. I go over to my garbage bag of clean clothes and stuff a pair of underwear inside the grocery bag, a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I go inside my bathroom and shove my toothbrush and my deodorant in the bag. When I'm sure I have everything I need, I tie a knot inside the bag and go back to my bedroom.

After a long day of work and being insulted and mocked for going to Harvard, I just want to sleep in my own room. But Stephanie invited me to have a couple drinks and sleep over at her apartment "to see how I like it" before I accept the offer to move in. Well, I've found a way to tell her that I'd rather live alone and I feel like I've already rejected her enough for one day, so I just said that I would drink and sleep over at her house tonight. Because interns work every second day at Seattle Grace-Mercy West, we're off tomorrow. I'm glad I have an off day because I have a bunch of shit to do. Like call a tow-truck to get my car out of the hospital parking lot and try to go make enough money to pay them to tow it.

I grab my cell phone charger and make a beeline for my front door. I lock it behind me for the night and walk back down the steps to Steph's car. I don't know where they went, but the group of druggies is gone when I come back out. I open up the door and get back inside Steph's car. "You're so lucky I actually like you. I was so tempted to just get into my bed and go to sleep. I'm exhausted."

"So would now be a bad time to tell you that I invited Leah, Heather and Shane over at 11? Would now be the worst time to tell you that?" She pulls out of my apartment complex parking lot and turns to go to her house. "I can always cancel, but we can only celebrate making it through two days of internship once in a lifetime."

"Really, Steph?" I throw my head back and grit my teeth. "I thought you said it was just gonna be us. I already told you how bad I suck at making friends…"

"You'll be fine Jo. We're just gonna sit in my living room, drink a little bit and listen to music. It'll be fun." She glances over at me and I utter a low, monotone groan. "…You really are uppity. You don't know how to let loose. It's that Ivy League education…"

"I'm NOT uppity and I'm not a snob. And I DO know how to let loose… it's not like I went to nun school, it was just the Ivy League." I roll my eyes and look out the window. "I'm just not very good at making friends. I'm a friendly person but… ehh." I look over at her. "You really think I'm a snob?"

"…You do kind of act prissy sometimes. Like you're too good to do things with the other interns. Sometimes it seems like you think that because you went to Ivy League schools that you're better than all of us. Only sometimes, though."

"….But I don't?" I'm starting to get irritated. I fold my arms across my chest and look straight. People thinking that I think that I'm prissy, stuck up and bitchy really bothers me because I'm TOTALLY NOT. How could I be?! I came from NOTHING…how can I act like a snob? I've never held anything bigger than a twenty dollar bill in my hand. How am I a priss?! "Because I totally wipe my ASS with hundred dollar bills. Because I have a pair of fucking shoes to match my every mood…. Right? I'm the prissiest bitch on the face of the earth."

"Chill, Jo… I never said any of that." Steph's voice is a little bit alarmed. "You asked and I answered. You asked me if I thought you were a snob and the answer is no…I don't think so. But sometimes you do act like you're the reborn Jesus Christ… wearing makeup to work and stuff like you can't stand being ugly? That bothers the others. It doesn't bother me much but the others don't really like it." My vision starts to blur up with unshed tears. I put my bottom lip between my top teeth and start breathing slowly. See, this is why I'm no good at making friends. They all decide that they don't like me before they even get to know me. I really don't try to act snobby I just don't want it to be obvious that I'm a homeless dumpster diver. I guess in my efforts, sometimes it comes off as snooty. But I swear I'm not…

"Well…" I rub my hand across my nose and sniff. "I don't really like for people to know I don't have anything… it keeps them from pitying my sorry ass. So sometimes, I just…. I try to make it so that people don't know that I'm worthless and I guess it comes off as a bitchy, prissy attitude. But I swear I'm not like that. I… I know the value of a dollar. I know what it's like to struggle to get the things you want, I swear. I'm not like that…"

"You don't have to convince me. I know you're not, but I'm just saying that when you act like that… you kind of have to brace yourself for people thinking you're a snob. It's especially easy for the people that have never talked to you to think that because when you look like that… it's just a given."

"…Look like what?"

"Like you just stepped out of the Miss America pageant." She pulls into the driveway of a small duplex. "Just listen to me for a second." She shuts off her car and turns to me. I tuck my hair behind my ear and listen. "If you've never talked to someone before, but they walked into a SURGICAL internship with a made up face, wouldn't you think they were a bit presumptuous? What if that same person looked like a model and then everyone found out that this person went to Harvard Medical while the rest of us just went to state colleges? What would you think?"

"…I would think that she was a bitch." I admit. I don't think I'm the hottest thing to walk the planet, but I do know that I'm not ugly. I'm not pretty or sexy or hot, but I'm not hideous. And I did go to really good schools. And sometimes my attitude makes me want to slap the crap out of myself… so I can only imagine how others must perceive me. I'm not mad at Steph, because like she said… I DID ask her if she thought I was snobby. I guess I just have to start getting to know people better so that people can get to know me and know that I'm NOT like that.

"You're right. It's not fair that people prejudge you before they even get to talk to you, but that's life." She opens up her car door but doesn't get out yet. "…You know Stacy? I don't know her last name because she's just that irrelevant, but you know… Stacy. She's short and fat with long red hair and a unibrow." She explains her to me and I think I know who she's talking about. She was on Dr. Robbins' service with me today, I believe. "She assumed that I was a nurse today." My jaw drops at that statement. "Yep. She asked me for a calculator and I told her that I didn't have one and she asked me what kind of nurse I was. And then when I told her that I was an intern just like her, she told me she's never seen a black surgeon before."

My jaw drops even further at that. "…But… But Dr. Bailey and Dr. Webber…was she serious?!" I'm angry FOR Steph. You know, that's another thing that irritates me. Racist people, I mean. I get that some people weren't raised like me and to be honest, I'm glad that most people weren't raised like me. But at the same time, I think my upbringing has made me into a better person. Racist people are one of my pet peeves. "And what did you say? Did you do anything? I would've slapped the hell out of her if I were you!"

"It didn't bother me though, Jo." She says. I examine her face to see if I can find any faults in it to suggest that she's lying and she did actually care, but she seems genuine. "I'm a way better person than she'll ever be and I don't care if anybody thinks I shouldn't be in the program because of my skin color or because of my attitude or anything like that. I just didn't care and I didn't let her words bother me. And you shouldn't let people's judgments bother you either. You just gotta prove them wrong like you proved me wrong. I thought you were a little bit snooty, but as soon as I started talking to you, you proved me wrong." She finally gets out of the car and I get out as well. "I'm sorry, though. I didn't mean to upset you…."

"It's okay, I'm just not used to this." I shut the car door behind me and loop my wrist through the handles of the grocery bag I put my clothes inside. "I've never really had to try and make sure people like me. I used to just roll with the fact that some people don't like me but now it matters if people like me or not. I have a job where it matters if I'm liked and I'm not used to it."

"Well, like I said…. You're not a hard person to get along with."

Alex's Point of View.

"So how was your day today? Teach any interns?" She doesn't even stop looking at the TV screen when she asks me that.

"I think I made one hate me." I keep watching the TV as well. "I heard her screaming about me to her friend at the lunch table today. It was hilarious."

"Alex... you really gotta stop being mean. Everybody hates you because you're an ass to everybody but me." She sighs. "Which one was it?"

"Uh...Wilson. Jo Wilson."

"Aww, she's the cute one." She love-taps me on my arm. "Mere was showing me the interns today at lunch and I'm pretty sure that Wilson is the cute one. Does she have like freakishly pretty hair and she's like... kinda tall?" I nod my head. "Oh, Alex! She's adorable! Why were you mean to her?!"

"Would it make you feel better if I apologized to the girl?"

"Yes, it would."

"Fine, I'll apologize. But only because you asked me to."

"How much do you love me?" Her slender fingers wrap themselves around the remote control as she uses her thumb to press the pause button to the DVD player. My lips pull up into a grin and she turns her head to look at me. "On a scale of one to ten, one being the least and ten being the highest." She cracks a smile herself, flashing those beaming, pearly white teeth at me. "Because I was just thinking about something for the wedding but…"

"I love you like a fat kid loves cake, okay? I'm not gonna put a number on it." I run my fingers along the soft skin on her hip and kiss her temple. I never really used to be a big fan of the kisses and the cuddles but these days, I don't really want to miss a minute of letting her know how much she means to me. Things happen way too quickly to waste a single moment. That's why we're having a big wedding. We're not having one just because she wants one; that's not the only reason. We're having one despite the fact that I absolutely loathe the idea of having a big wedding because this could possibly be the only wedding she'll ever have. It's unfair to her to stunt the things that she wants just because I don't want them. "What was your idea for the wedding?"

"You know how my dress is gonna be pink, right?" She muses. I nod. "I was thinking we could get your tux custom made. The outside can be pink with a silver vest… and a pink tie. Or is that a big no for you? No pink tux?" A pink tux isn't really that bad. I feel like I owe it to her to at least wear what she wants me to wear. The original plan for us was to have a small wedding for friends and family, and even when that was the plan, I was going to let her put me in some goofy colored tuxedo. It's the only way I can repay her. Question. How do you repay someone that's given you everything?

I mean that. Iz has given me everything. She's given me a reason to better myself, a reason to try and make something out of my life and a reason to want to be a better person. I gotta be honest. I didn't have the slightest idea of what I wanted my life to be before I met her. I never wanted to get married or have kids or any of that stuff. I didn't even have the desire to buy my own house. But now, I'm about to get married to the love of my life, I own a house that I bought off one of my best friends and I can see myself being a good dad someday…and that's all because of her. It's crazy how one person can do that to you.

"I don't care about a pink tux." I run my fingers through the silky pieces of her thin blonde hair. It's shoulder-length now and it's just crazy to think that this time two months ago, she didn't have enough hair to squeeze into a ponytail. It's been growing back nicely since she stopped her treatments. It's been in remission since February and she hasn't had to go through chemo since March. Five months cancer free and four months chemo free is reason enough to give her the wedding she deserves. "We should do the cake tasting thing soon so I can get the cake paid for sooner rather than later."

"What kind of cake do you want? I know banana crème is your favorite but you really think that'd make a decent wedding cake?" She lifts her head up and rests her face in the crook of my neck like she always does when she's sleepy. We were watching The Fast & The Furious while we were unwinding from the long day at work that we both had, but if she's sleepy then we can go to bed. "I just feel like we should get our money's worth. If we get a banana crème cake for our wedding cake and not everybody eats it, then we have leftover cake for days."

"Red velvet then?" I suggest. "You can't really go wrong with red velvet and cream cheese." I curl my fingers around her hips and pull her onto my lap. "Forget the wedding for a couple minutes." I kiss her on her cheek, right beside her lips. "When are you gonna give me babies?" To ensure that she's secure on my lap, I fold my arms around her waist and hold her tight. "Lots and lots of babies… that's what I'm looking forward to."

She puts her hands on the back of my head and smiles at me again. "How many?"

"As many as we can get." I loosen my arms so I can rub her back. "At least two, though. I wouldn't want the only child to get lonely, so we gotta have at least two. And they can't be any more than three years apart… and we gotta have our boy first."

"Well you've got this all planned out for me, don't you?" She leans her head down and kisses me again. "Someone's got baby fever…"

"I wouldn't call it that." I just stare up at her in complete awe of her beauty. What Mere said earlier is right. Iz and I are soulmates. I really feel like she's the person I'm meant to be with for the rest of my life, but I can't quite figure out how I got so lucky to get her. I don't think I deserve her but I'm never gonna let her go. She's mine and I don't intend on letting her go. But I don't think I'd ever say that aloud. "I just wanna know when…"

"Preferably after we get married." She puts her hand to my forehead and gently pushes my head back. "But I guess we could try to make a baby sometime soon." She winks at me. "Like tonight?"

"There's no harm in trying." I grab the remote and turn the TV off. She pulls me down on top of her and starts to kiss me. There's definitely no harm in trying for a baby….

Jo's Point of View.

"When'd you say that the other ones were coming?" With a can of Dr. Pepper in my hand, I sit down in the corner of the sofa in Steph's living room and cross my legs. Steph's sitting at the opposite end of the couch stuffing popcorn in her mouth and scrolling through her cell phone. I admit that this is a really nice place she has here. It's nice and spacious and everything is on one floor. The entire place is carpeted unlike my place and there are no signs of mold growing anywhere. It's really neat and tidy and it looks like an apartment you could rent over in NYC. It's so clean that I would feel safe if I ate off of the floor. Completely nixing the fact that I just asked her when the other interns are coming over, I start a new conversation. "Is all this furniture in here yours?"

She swallows a mouthful of popcorn and nods. "My mom got new furniture last year and she kept this stuff in storage for me to have when I got my own place. So everything in this place is mine except for the fridge, the stove and the washer and dryer. Those came with the apartment." She points to the 60-inch flat-screen TV that's mounted onto the wall in front of where we're sitting. "This was a hand-me-down from my dad. The kitchen table is another hand-me-down…"

"Oh." I crack open my can of Dr. Pepper and take a quick sip of it. "This stuff isn't bad for your first furniture. It's nice and clean and stuff." I look around to keep marveling at the fanciness of the apartment. "And the stuff in your guest room… is that all hand-me-down stuff too?"

"Yep." She puts her feet up on the coffee table and looks over at me. "But if you have your own mattress and dresser and stuff, I can just go stick that crap back in storage. You don't have to use that stuff." She pops another three or four pieces of popcorn in her mouth and starts to chew. "What time do you want to move in tomorrow? I was thinking you'd probably want to do it tomorrow since we're off for the next two days. And the two of us could go food shopping tomorrow because my dad wants me to go to Olympia so he can give me his food card."

"…Food card?" I wrinkle my eyebrow in confusion. I've never heard of a food card before. I need to get me one of those.

"You know… the food card. I think they're really called EBT cards. The food stamp things? You know how you get a card for that? Don't tell me you've never heard of food stamps before…"

"Oh!" I've heard of food stamps before. I've never heard the card be called a "food card" before though. I've just heard them called "food stamps." "Yeah, I've heard of food stamps." I tuck my hair behind my ear. "So your dad just gives you his food stamps? He'd do that for you?"

"Well yeah." She takes her feet off the coffee table and tucks her legs underneath of her body. "He's my dad… and he worries about me. He gets like 300 bucks in food stamps every month because he's on disability. He never really uses them because my step-mom is like SUPER good at budgeting so he lets me use them to get food every now and again. He got them today and he told me to come down to Olympia to get it so I can do some shopping. And he usually gives me like 50 bucks to buy the things that food stamps won't buy. Like toilet paper and shampoo and conditioner and soap and stuff."

"That's nice of him to do." I look down at the couch cushion between my legs and sigh. I don't mean to sound antisocial but I'm really enjoying the time with just Stephanie. She let me get in the shower first and after she got out after me, we just started talking. I like it this way. "It's safe to say you never go hungry then, I guess."

"My parents don't let me go hungry. They understand that I'm still just an intern and I need a little bit of help here and there." She adjusts her glasses on her face and continues to just look at me. "That's the good thing about parents, you know? They never just abandon you…even when you're 28 and long out of their house, they still feel the need to help you get on your feet."

"…Yeah, I guess you're right." Is that really what parents are supposed to do? I wouldn't really know.

"Your parents must've been over the moon when you got into Princeton and Harvard, eh?" She cracks open her own can of soda and holds it to her mouth. "Harvard's all expensive and so is Princeton. Did they have to sell a kidney to keep you in school?"

"…Not really." Why do I feel like I'm lying to her? I'm not lying or anything like that, but I feel like I am. I feel like I'm a big liar that's just leading her to believe that I actually have parents. "…I don't have parents, Steph." I put my tongue in my cheek, embarrassed. She's looking at me like I'm a puppy that just barked for the first time in my life. I look away from her. "…I've been on my own since I was sixteen. I don't know who my mom is and I don't know who my dad is. I used to um…" I blink back tears and press my lips together. "I used to live in my car. I've been an orphan for as long as I can remember."

"…You really don't know your folks?" Her face looks like she might cry. "Jo I didn't… I didn't know… I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I turned out fine, didn't I?" I move my hair to the other side of my shoulder so it's out of my way. "My mom left me outside of a fire station when I was two weeks old and after that, I spent all my life in foster homes… til I was sixteen, that's when I moved into my car."

"Foster homes? Is that plural?" She looks really confused and equally upset. "I thought that you get put into one foster home until you turn eighteen. They just let you live in your car like that?"

"There are ways around it… and you only stay in foster homes if the people like you." I sigh. "…But I got into Princeton and Harvard because I worked really hard for it. That's why it kind of bothers me when people think that I got everything handed to me and think that I'm prissy. Because I'm really not. I know what it means to struggle. And I know what it's like to go to bed hungry. And I don't feel sorry for myself, either. I'm NOT poor Jo. I'm not that at all, because shit happens, you know? Not everybody is blessed with good parents and people that give a shit about whether they live or die...and that doesn't matter. I wouldn't have gotten anywhere if I felt bad for myself."

"…So you weren't kidding? You really can't afford much…" She looks over and puts her Dr. Pepper down on the coffee table. "…I know you don't really know me, but that doesn't matter." She scoots over on her butt so that she's next to me. "You do have me though. I can be your family… if you want." She gives me a real tight hug.

My lips tug themselves up into a sincere smile. "Thanks Steph, but you don't need to feel sorry for me." I hug her back to be polite. "Just don't tell anybody, okay? I don't want people to feel all bad for me and stuff at the hospital. I hate that."

"I would never tell anybody, Jo. Ever. I'm not like that." Before she pulls out of our hug, she combs her fingers through my hair. "I guess the good thing is that as long as you live with me, you'll never really be hungry anymore." I guess living with Steph wouldn't be so bad… Whatever, I accept the offer.

I chuckle. "I was never really that hungry. I mean…" I look up at the ceiling then back at her. "Yeah when I lived in my car I didn't have a choice but to be hungry but recently, I've gone hungry by choice." She looks at me like I'm nuts so I clear my throat to explain to her about Brynn. "This little girl that lived in my apartment building was so cute but she was always so hungry because her mom always locked her out the house so I used to make my little packets of Ramen Noodles and give the bulk of them to her. I couldn't watch a little kid starve to death while I'm a doctor. Her name was Brynn."

"You're literally a saint, Jo. Saint Jo… I'm gonna start calling you that."

"If it makes you happy." I shrug my shoulders.

Still Jo's Point of View (lol).

"Have any of you guys been on Dr. Avery's service yet?" Steph asks as she tops off Leah's cup with more coconut flavored vodka. I think I'm gonna be done after this next cup full because I'm really starting to feel this. I'm not drunk just yet but I'm almost there and I don't want to get drunk with people I don't know. When I'm drunk, I get all weird and extremely talkative and I just want to have sex and pass out when I'm drunk. It's a weird thing. So I usually prefer to get drunk with either close girlfriends or just by myself…that way I won't do anything I regret.

"He's married, Stephanie." Shane retorts, which makes me laugh. He's actually not as bad as he seemed at first. He's not as serious as he appeared to be in the locker room…he's actually funny. He's sitting next to me and he's halfway through his third cup of booze. He's made me laugh more times than I can count and he's only been here for a half hour so far. "What is it with you girls and married men?!"

"You thought Yang was hot until you found out that she was married, so chill." Leah downs her refill of vodka and rolls her eyes. I could get along with Leah as well. She's really sassy and a lot of the things that come out of her mouth are sarcastic and really witty. Not to mention that she's really pretty. "Work is no fun without eye-candy. Just because they're married doesn't mean we can't think they're hot."

"Thank you Leah." Steph takes a sip of her own alcohol and looks directly at me. Steph's been going out of her way to include me in on the conversations tonight and I don't really think she needs to. I'm fine laughing occasionally at jokes and drinking. I'm okay with it. But again, she drags me into the conversation. "Jo's swooning over this guy from OB."

"I am not!" I put my cup down and roll my eyes. My lips are up in a permanent smile and I'm actually really enjoying myself with them tonight. Maybe Steph's right. Maybe I'm really not a hard person to get along with. "I just think he's hot…and he is. He's sexy that's all. I'm not swooning."

Heather's eyes bug out of her head. Heather is a species all her own. She doesn't fit the mold of Leah or Steph…Heather is Heather. She's goofy and funny and really, really, REALLY weird. "Is he bald? With real big muscles? And he's a light-skin isn't he?" She pours herself some more liquor and starts talking to me. "I know exactly who you're talking about. You're talkin' about Chest Peckwell."

Chest Peckwell? "…I don't even know his name, but I guess. All I know is that he's hot, he works in OB, he wears pink scrubs and he could GET IT." I shrug and pick my cup of liquor back up. Glad to know I'm not the only one that thinks the guy from OB is hot.

"….By 'get it' you mean?" Shane asks. The look on his face tells that he is genuinely confused.

"I'd fuck him…. no shame. I don't even care. I'd sleep with him." I shrug my shoulders and admit it. See, this is why I hate getting drunk around people that I hardly even know. Because now Shane probably thinks I'm easy and I'm not I just think that Chest Peckwell is hot and the liquor makes me hormonal and sex-crazed. It's not a good combo.

"Why don't you just ask the guy out? It's hot when girls make the first move and you'll never know if he's single unless you ask." Shane proposes.

"I can't just go up to him and be like… hey, you're hot, date me." I shake my head. "Maybe I'll ask him out…when the cows come home."

"She also thinks Dr. Karev is hot too. The girl needs help." Steph winks at me.

"BUT HE TOTALLY IS! OH MY GOD." Leah starts gushing. Glad I'm not alone in that either. "And he's into blondes! His wife is skinny and blonde… I'M skinny and blonde…HELLO! We're meant to be."

"He's the biggest asshole I've ever met in my life though. He's the worst human being." I drink the last gulp of my drink and lean back against the couch. "He's a big fat jerk that needs to go get hit by the milk truck." Heather and Shane both bust out into laughter. "I'm so serious! I've never met somebody so ignorant, self-absorbed and DOUCHEY in my life. I hope nobody ever has the unfortunate displeasure of ever meeting such a despicable human being…ever."

"Damn, Jo." Leah shakes her head at me. "And here I thought you were goody-goody two shoes that didn't say much of anything." She laughs. "Dr. Karev brings it out of you."

"No, he's just the biggest butt-muncher I've ever met." I sigh. "But he's hot… how does that work? How is someone that sexy but so fucked up?"

"I hear that Dr. Avery's a real gentleman." Steph adds in.

"Nobody gives a shit about Avery but you." Heather snaps playfully at her.

"Oh wait guys…" I start. "You guys know the one they call 'McDreamy'? He could get it too." I know I said I was done after this cup, but I lean forward and fill it back up anyway. "We work in a hospital full of sexy people…. How does this work?" I swallow a small gulp of liquor.

"…I think you just need laid." Steph shakes her head at me like she's ashamed. "You swoon over Chest Peckwell, Karev AND Shepherd? You need something…. when's your birthday? I'm gonna buy you a vibrator."

I roll my eyes at her and laugh. "No thanks. I don't masturbate. I'd rather have the real thing." I pull my hair back and look over at Shane. "So you really think I should ask him out? Chest Peckwell, I mean. Should I ask him? Are you sure that's not desperate on my behalf?"

"Just start talking to him… then just ask him out for a drink. You can't go wrong there." He responds.

"…I'm gonna need a couple beers in my system before I get enough balls to ask him out. But maybe I'll do it… on Friday."