The lights are blindingly bright and the atmosphere is terribly dark, and he's alone and she's surrounded and he's ugly and she's pretty and everything he will never get.

The technicolor lights illuminate the faces down on the dance floor. The rhythm bounces as the bodies move and throb, her hair is bright and his hair is dark and just as the energetic song speeds up he feels his heart stop. When she looks at him, he looks away and focuses his eyes on the DJ.

He's just moved back to Seattle from Oregon Medical School. He's starting his internship at the best hospital of the west coast next month, so he knows he won't have much time for romantic conquests, love, and alcohol filled parties in crowded bars.

Not that he's experienced at that either.

Every time it happens, each time he feels it, he tries to sweep it away and dissuade himself. Love means change which leads to uncertainty. And he's never been good at taking risks, at listening to his heart.

In Anatomy class they teach you how to stitch it, how to operate on it. But not how to deal with it. In Chemistry class you learn how the reactions work to minimize the hazards, destroy every what if. Nothing in science is casual, unexpected. He likes its accuracy.

This night he can't help it. Even though he's trying to fight it, he turns his face toward her because he can't deal with his impatience either.

Her face is bright and his is dark, and she's with a tall guy and he is barely 5' 7''. And she is smiling and he downturns his lips. The guy seems rich, successful, and he thinks that's how this works.

The short nice geeky guys never get the hot blondes.

The perfect-teethed asshole handsome guys never understand the short nice geeky guys.

The hot blondes are supposed to be with the perfect-teethed asshole handsome guys.

And he is done.

He lets an ironic laugh escape his throat while analyzing the thought and then he looks at his watch. It's still early, but it's too late. He is doing nothing here.

He walks the short distance between the disco club and his car.

He wants to pretend he didn't see her looking at him. Erase the idea that this could be his lucky night. He desires to vanquish all the little voices in his head that are proclaiming solemnly that he's no more than an idiot who lets opportunities slip from his hands.

He's trying to forget everything and regress to the stupid thought that he couldn't entertain the idea of finding love in a stranger now that he's supposed to be a hardcore doctor.

The air has a chill and suddenly he notices a hot hand grab on his wrist. When he turns around he sees her lean forward to give him the most breathtaking kiss he's ever been allowed to experience. The tender flesh of her tongue is flowing in his mouth, floating along with the juicy fluids expelled. It's rough and direct and sexy. And sweet and reluctant and happy. It's as if a box inside of them had exploded and let out a cloud of sparkling stars among them, bathing every pore, every inch of slick skin.

The kiss deepens when he flattens his palm on her lower back to pull her closer. He does not know what made her change her mind. He does not know whether he's dreaming or this is actually happening.

They pull back to breathe, to taste this. To allow love to suffocate them, to drink this in.

They don't talk and yet there's so much they want to say.

He slides his hand around her waist. Takes her to his car and opens the door for her. They drive through the city, the lights are bright and he's not dark anymore, and she's giving him directions, leading them through the jungle of traffic to their destination. The most surprising thing is that he does not know where she is taking him and does not care because he's going with her. The most obvious one is that he's not letting this go.

She opens the door and closes the drapes. The moment is precious and the need endless and yet they play coy, partly because neither one of them saw this coming, but also because this is new and dangerous and no one knows how it's going to end.

She looks at him and he understands. The room is freezing but they don't need that many clothes to warm up. Her hair is messy enough and he still sinks his fingers into it feeling the touch while she wildly rips off his clothes. She shoves him on the bed, naked, willing.

She reaches the remote of the Hi-Fi and a song starts crying out of the speakers. His manhood is stiff and her muscles are flexible when she moves following the rhythm. She gets closer and closer to him with every note, farther and farther from uncertainty, they know where they are going. What they are doing to each other.

She rests her limbs, her hips on the soft mattress, leans her head forward and touches the edge of his penis with her fingertips, driving him crazy, moaning how pretty she is repeatedly, madly.

The constant assurance of her beauty makes her smile just as she grabs his hard on with both her hands and envelops it with her mouth swallowing it all, irrigating it with her saliva, sending him electric currents down his spine.

She feels his veins under the tender flesh start pumping harder and harder, more violently.

She pulls her head up. They look at each other, their eyes locked. He thinks the room is black and her skin is white, the sheets are green and her lips red. And he can't wait to grab her and pull her closer. He can't stop until the distance between them is taken away completely.

They kiss each other because there's nothing else they could do at this point. He rolls her over and kisses her once more on the mouth, then trails down into her neck and when he notices her goosebumps caused by the warm breath against her skin, he stops.

They blink.

There's no going back.

He slides inside her. He grabs her hips and starts pushing. Digs deeper and a sort of wet heat surfaces, surrounding them, making them tremble. They laugh and cry all at the same time, because it's painful and it's pure joy. It's passion turned into love. And they're bound to each other and they're free. They are trapped. They are free in what they feel for each other.

He thrusts harder and they move faster until the pain becomes so big and fulfilling they let it go. He falls into her and kisses her until they're both worn out. Then she closes her eyes and he opens his to take this in sight. To keep it for himself and make sure he's sharing the moment with her.

The room is quiet and he is shaking when he gets up the next day. She is draped across him and he tries to get out of his bed without waking her up. He fails when she opens her eyes and smiles. He finally gets up and lifts the drapes and lets the warmth of the sunshine expel the coldness prevailing in the little bedroom.

She would ask him where he lives, if she can meet her later, the following day, the next week, but she barely knows him and the fact that he's wearing an 'I love Oregon' pin on his t-shirt makes her realize that he's probably not from Seattle.

She would plead with him to stay with her. To love her. To cherish her. She would request so many things to the man in front of her, but she finally doesn't. He was probably looking for a one-night-stand anyway.

When she looks at him he seems as startled as her, and for one moment she thinks that maybe they are looking for the same thing, but she does not say anything.

She does find the strength to blurt a question out though.

"Can I ask you one thing?"

"Of course."

"What's your name?"

"George. George O'Malley"

"Mine's Izzie. Izzie Stevens."

He nods and there's an awkward pause. "Well... I – I have to go."

He waves goodbye. They smile happily at each other and their heart saddens at the thought that probably they won't see each other anymore, even though they're sure they will remember this over and over again.