ambivalent [alex karev]

v. in which he is passionate

 I stab at a cherry tomato with unnecessary force. "You know, I will never understand why boys-"

"Have to do the perfect things around you-" Izzie cuts in, violently spooning yogurt into her mouth.

"And make you feel so obligated-"

"They make you want to-"

"Love them. Kiss them. It's terrible." I bite down, the juicy center of the tomato spreading across my tongue.

"I think I like Karev."

"Lovely. You and him can rule the fiery pits of hell together." I eye a forkful of lettuce with distaste. "I told you about Will, right?"

m "Haha, Charlie. You're hilarious. Will's the best friend that loves you, correct?"

"I know. And yes. We had dinner yesterday."

"And..." she leans forward with childlike anticipation.

"And... it was as heartbreakingly perfect as I expected it to be."

"For the love of Christ, Charlotte, date the man!" she exclaims.

"Seriously, he's my best friend. Just my best friend. I want something more, Izzie. Chemistry that sizzles. He's like... a blanket fort on a rainy day. I want passion, you know? Fire."

"When did you get so profound?" Izzie teases. "You're going to end up hurt in the end if you find the wrong kind of passion."

"There's never a wrong kind of passion." I say, my words laced with offense. Scooting back in my chair, my legs straighten as I toss my salad. Izzie, intelligent as ever, holds her tongue and follows.

The bar's crowd is as rowdy as ever. Sandwiched between a pair of very intoxicated men, I pardon me, excuse me my way to Meredith, George, Cristina and Izzie. Straddling the bar stool, I call for a vodka soda.

"He-"

"Hi, Charlotte." I tense as I feel hands on my waist. Swiveling around, I see that it's Will.

"Will!" I feign happiness, hugging him and peering over his shoulder to make desperate eyes at my friends. They simply shrug. Useless. "What are you doing here?" I pull back.

"Cress said you would be here. I wanted to meet your friends." he smiles a guarded smile. Resting one hand on my waist, he shakes their hands one at a time.

"Cristina, Meredith, George and Izzie, this is my best friend Will Myers." I nod, relaxing slightly. I can't wrap my head around why he's here at all. He seems fine, but something is clearly not right. As they make small talk, my relaxation is dampened by the presence of a certain Alex Karev.

"Why, hello!" he greets, artificial sweetness seeping from his words. Izzie waves him over excitedly and he lazily makes his way to her.

"I assume you're Alex Karev?" Will asserts. My eyes widen with realization and it's too late for me to stop what's going to happen.

"Ah, so she's talked about me to the boyfriend? Never a good sign." Alex clicks his tongue.

"I only talked about you to complain, Alex. Don't let it go to your head. Will is just a friend, anyways." I quickly step in. Will's grip on my tenses, for just a moment, and then he is back to nonchalance. Their conversation resumes, and I excuse myself to use the restroom. Splashing myself with bone cold water, I breathe evenly for what seems like first time in ages. Everything is fine. A weird sentence to even think. The door swings open and Izzie enters, a mischievous grin on her face. I groan. "What did you do, you little she-devil?"

"Remember how you said you wanted passion?" she excitedly leads.

"I do..."

"He just took that advice to heart. You know, bad boy act. I think it's working!"

"Working? What part of showing up to hang out with me and being kind and loving is a bad boy act?" I retort, wiping my hands with paper napkins. "It won't work anyways." Grabbing her hands, I squeeze them tightly. "But thanks for trying!" She whines, but I drag her out the door. And man, I wish I stayed in that bathroom.

"I heard you squeezed her ass the day you met her." I hear Will say. Panic rises in my stomach, but Izzie is practically floating.

"I did. Not to worry, Werner, I'm not interested in your lady."

"It's Will, and I will knock your teeth out if you even look at her again." His voice raises and I don't think he realizes how much he's embarrassing himself. Will sounds comical, not tough, and I cringe. Alex steps forward, jaw locking. His ego, his pride. Those will get him in serious trouble one day if his motormouth doesn't. Grabbing Will's forearm, I strain to drag him away from the bar. Shielded by a curtain in the corner of the bar, I launch into my tirade.

"What the hell was that?" I hiss.

"Izzie said you want passion. Fire. Was that not good?" Will genuinely seems concerned, but I have too much pride to go back on my words.

"No. No, that wasn't good. I don't like you like this, and I'm sorry, Will, I really am but I do not want to date you." I blurt out. His face falls, and I stutter. "I-it isn't like that. Uh, you're nice! N-nice and I love you, but not like that. That m-meaning... Well, you know." Reaching out to comfort him, he angrily pulls away. Guilt stabs my body a thousand times over. "Will. Will!" I call out.

"Save it." he grits his teeth. Yanking on his coat, Will rams open the door of Joe's. Standing there for five, ten, fifteen minutes, I'm finally guided out by Izzie. Alex stares at me as if I'm going to punch him, and I'm not sure I won't. Shivering, my tears well in my eyes but stay there, as if something is keeping them from falling. Izzie holds me as I shake in her arms, the crisp November air writhing around us. I can taste a salty tear as it reaches my lips. Swiping at it with my tongue, I push myself of Izzie.

"I'm gonna be fine. He'll get over it, like he always does." I mutter, in a futile attempt to satisfy myself. Izzie just shakes her head, and takes my keys from my purse.

"Thanksgiving is in two days. Are you absolutely, positively positive you won't come?" Izzie beseeches.

"I'm telling you, I'm going to be fine. Will will forgive me by then, and we'll do Thanksgiving over FaceTime as usual." I solace.

"He lives in New York. New York. You'ld be better off having Thanksgiving with us. And Char, I say this because I love you, but he might not forgive you by then." I catch her say the words or ever under her breath. Choosing to ignore her, I grab my next patient's chart with determination.

"He has to."