Disclaimer: They're not mine, they never are and they never will be.

Doesn't she realize how hard this is for him? That he's never really been able to do things like this? Say things like this? That he's really genuinely trying to do something right? Something good?

He's used to being the womanizer, that's his comfort zone and he'd have no problem continuing that pattern. He wasn't doing this because he had a sudden attack of morals. He was doing it because she deserved it, she was worth it.

He was reeling. Things weren't working out like he had thought they would. He knew his faults, better than anyone; he knew where his mediocrities lie. He covered his insecurities with competitiveness and cockiness. He threw people off when he felt threatened. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. His natural defense was to piss people off, try to knock them off of their game so he could gain the upper hand. He refused to be intimidated. Then he met her.

To say she was beautiful was trite and cliché, she was…stunning even in those ridiculous, ill-fitting scrubs, with her hair haphazardly pulled up. She looked up from her clipboard and when he saw her eyes, he forgot to breathe. He shook his head to clear it and made the decision to not like her. He couldn't afford to. He was going to stay focused, get as much experience as he could, become a doctor, and get the hell out of Seattle.

As days went on he tried to stop thinking about her, and he did pretty well for a while, but that all changed the day that he found her picture in a magazine. Oh my God.