I’m shoving a cinnamon roll into my mouth and stare at the little screen of my mobile. The idea had come to me a little while ago, but now I’m not so sure. I feel like Gru in Despicable Me when he practices calling Lucy but then doesn’t.

Is it human nature to have a great idea and when it comes to executing it balk at it? With a sigh, I reach for another cinnamon roll. Fuck, they’re delicious. If I’m not careful, I’ll start to put on the pounds.

Not that I’m one for those crap diets people go on. Oh no, not me. I roll my eyes at diets. How can you enjoy life when you eat fucking no fat, no dairy, gluten-free, organic, low carb, and no fucking sugar water? It beats me.

I like my food. No wait, I fucking love my food. Not to mention a good drop to go with it. Coffee is also an essential food group as far as I’m concerned.

Focus Chloe. You’re going to call Aaron and ask him.

Argh.

What the fuck’s wrong with me? It’s a simple little phone call. It won’t hurt.

And I’m only asking him to come and spend the weekend with me, it’s not as if I’m proposing marriage or a long-term commitment.

I take a deep breath and lick bits of sugar off my top lip. Yum.

Thank goodness for Aaron bringing some of these over the other day. It made me realize how much I love this little sweet treats and promptly bought another half dozen.

Maybe I’ll make myself some coffee. All that fucking sweet stuff leaves me craving a double espresso or two.

In front of the silver beast, my nickname for the coffee machine, I pull faces and practice what I’m going to say.

“Hi Aaron, just wondering if you want to come away for a weekend of fucking.”

No.

I laugh at myself.

You really have a way with words Chloe.

Of course, I have a way with words. I’m a fucking writer and a good one at that.

Shouldn’t I get straight to the point? I mean, the last couple of times we’ve met, that’s what we’ve ended up doing. Had a fantastic fuck. If I put it in those terms, he may be more inclined to say yes.

Grrr.

Words. I’m the master of words and they will obey me.

How about, “Hi Aaron. If you’re not doing anything this weekend can you come away with me?”

I frown.

A little better but still kind of lame, and I don’t do lame.

What if he says no?

And there, ladies and gentlemen is the fucking problem. I’m afraid he’ll say no. I’m fucking terrified of rejection.

Look what happened to Anna Karenina, she fucking committed suicide because she could not handle rejection. Sure, the plot’s a little more complicated but I think, in the end, it was all based on rejection. Not to mention Bella’s reaction when Edward does not reciprocate her love in the first book. She stops participating in life for months.

Of course, I’m not madly in love with Aaron the way Bella was with Edward and I’m also no Karenina. But, I don’t want to be rejected.

What am I, or is it who am I? Which question should I be asking? Fucking make the phone call Chloe, my inner voice is getting a little bit frustrated.

I’m more like Anne Shirley out of Anne of Green Gables I decide, or am I Elizabeth Bennett?

I sigh.

But who’s Aaron, or what is Aaron?

Is he the man I’m falling for? Falling for, what an odd expression. Where did that term or phrase come from?

Now I’m fucking philosophizing on the question of life.

My head’s starting to hurt. I’m starting to regret ever having thought of wanting to ask him. If I had not thought of it, I now would not be in this fucking dilemma.

Chloe, it’s just asking him to fucking come away for one weekend.

If he says no, I’ll deal with it. You’ve dealt with other rejection before. And he may already have plans. I mean, let’s face it, not everyone can just drop everything with barely any notice and get on a plane to go to Reykjavik.

With my coffee brewed, I sit back at my desk. Maybe I better check the site before I call him?

The longer you stall, the higher the chances of him being unable to change his weekend plans.

Strong black coffee assaults my taste buds.

Ah. Fuck, this is good. A real caffeine jolt, just what I needed.

My index finger hovers a few more seconds before I press the speed dial button.

I furrow my brow. Should I attach any weight to the fact I’ve got him on speed dial—a man I barely know?

But then again, he’s the man I’m asking to come away with me for the weekend.

“Hi,” his deep voice booms through the speaker and into my ear. “I knew you were too good to be true and cannot possibly be real.”

I’m taken aback.

“What do you mean?” Part of me is offended, the other being swept away in feelings of eating soft-centered chocolate. When you eat soft-centered chocolates, you kind of roll your eyes in sheer delight as your taste buds are bombarded with an artillery of taste sensations. Your whole body is enveloped in a warm, soft and cuddly blanket.

“Only witches I think have the power to read other people’s thoughts. And lo and behold, I’m sitting here, lonely as anything, thinking of an excuse to ring you. Bingo. My phone rings and it’s the woman of my dreams on the other end.”

At his words, my heart performs several summersaults and, for a moment, I’m unable to put one proper thought together.

“Witch.”

“Pardon?” Now he sounds confused.

I’m about to explain but change my mind.

“Never mind.”

Aaron laughs.

“Wait, wait. I got it. I should have said the witch of my dreams calls me.”

“Full marks, move to the top of the class.”

“What’re you up to?”

Perfect leading question.

“I’m packing and I wondered if you’d like to come to Reykjavik with me. Cassie and Ethan are going, and well…” Now I do falter just a little. “I just thought it might be fun if you came along, too.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and brace for the thanks for asking, but no thanks.

“Pardon?”

Now I haven’t heard what he said because I’ve been too fucking busy bracing.

“Looks like Cassie gets her double date after all.”

I can’t believe my ears.

“So you’ll come?” I double check and am already grinning ear to ear.

He may have taken me on a date to the library; I was going to take him to Reykjavik. And boy, would we have some fun together.

“You know, I normally don’t ask a man on a date like this.” I feel the need to explain. And it is true. It’s very out of character for me to ask someone out, especially on an overnight date.

“Well,” starts Aaron. “I’m pleased to hear you’ve broken with tradition.”

I can hear it in his voice that he’s genuine in what he just said.

“I’ll just move some appointments around and I’ll come and get you.”

Before I can protest and tell him to meet me at the airport, he’s ended the conversation.

On impulse, I get up and do a little victory dance.

Yeah, oh yeah, I’m going to Reykjavik with Aaron. I jig around the room—pleased no one can see me.

I’m not quite sure why I carry on like a little schoolgirl in love with some celebrity she’s about to meet. It’s silly, really. I’m a grown woman, a successful writer, and generally not one to let my emotions run away with me.

Ah well, no harm in letting my hair down from time to time.

I skip to my room to grab a case and pack some clothes. Why bother, my inner voice pipes up. You’ll be spending most of your time naked. I giggle at the thought.

Am I falling for this man? Is single, independent me falling in love with a successful businessman?

And what if I am?

Aaron is what every girl wants, isn’t he? He seems like the real deal. He’s honest, sincere, fucking funny, and he’s so fucking hot my insides almost melt every time I think of him or look at him.

I must really ask him one day what business exactly he’s in.

Could it be there’s a flaw I haven’t yet noticed?

I push the thought aside. He’s the real deal. He’s the Mr. Darcy women only read about.

My time on Thebadboys.net has been the perfect training ground to work out people’s character. I’m pretty confident my online training has been excellent and I’ve learned to read people well.

With my case packed, I do the only thing left to do: I go online to plan an itinerary for the weekend.