Author's Note: I went back and changed the preview for the previous chapter because I wanted to change the title for this one. Some may have guessed already how this is going to end, but that's what a romantic comedy is all about, predictability and happy endings. The fun part is getting to know your couple and how they get together.

Disclaimer: I own neither the Teen Titans nor Starbucks.

Chapter 2

Never underestimate the importance of that first impression

Maybe I hadn't done it. Maybe it was a dream. Yeah, that's it, it was a dream. I could never be that drunk or stupid. To actually tell them that I was romantically involved with someone was a definitely huge brain-fart on my part. What the hell was I thinking?

I mean, sure they always gave me hell. The laughing, the mocking, the criticizing, the 'you're going to end up old and alone' jokes. Just then, the thought having to hold another one of those conversations was more than I could bear. Just thinking about sitting down and telling them I had lied about having an imaginary boyfriend, going so far as to even recount a detailed description of our first 'meeting', makes me want to crawl into a small hole and die. And Tara. Oh, Tara, she'll laugh her ass off then hold this over my head for the rest of my life. She will never, never let me live this down.

I slowly got out of bed, green digital read out of my alarm clock reading 8:47 am, and trudged my way to the kitchen and made myself some herbal tea, the whistle of brass tea kettle breaking the silence of the morning. After the water boiled and I had a few sips, I reluctantly made my way to my laptop on coffee table. I sat down on my couch, cup of tea in hand and found there was a message on my machine. The little red light blinking in my peripheral vision. Sighing I got up and pressed the button:

"Hey Rae-Rae," came the taunting voice of Tara, "Sorry to call so early in the morning but the girls and I were talking after you left last night. We decided to have a little get together before Friday, you know so that it's not uncomfortable for the guys all sleeping under one roof without getting to know each other first. So we're all getting together at the D&B on Wednesday at 6, bring Mark and we'll see you there."

I scowled and deleted the message. Tara's voice resonated in my mind, the way she said Mark, it held disdain. I knew she knew, and she was looking to humiliate me. Damn her. She was going to see to it that I came, without a man by my side, and not only disgrace me in front of the girls but also the guys. Oh she was good, very good. But I was better. I was going to show her.

And just like that- at the mere thought of showing up with a great guy, albeit a guy I made up in my head – I felt better. Because first of all, this wasn't just any guy, he was the perfect guy. Gorgeous, intelligent, successful, caring, sensitive, able to commit and so head over heels in love with me, he doesn't even notice other women in the room. I'm telling you, Jessica Alba could walk by naked and if I'm there, he wouldn't give her a second look. And believe it or not this guy existed, his name was Mark Graham.

So for the next few hours I became completely absorbed in my little plan, planning it all out meticulously instead of working on my article. I was going to hire and actor and pay him to pretend to be my boyfriend from Wednesday until Monday, completely charming my friends in the process, then 'dump' the poor guy on Tuesday because of 'irreconcilable differences'. O yes, this was going to be fun. Every once in a while, I'd stop and think the whole thing was ridiculous, it was a stupid idea with no real credibility and I would never go through with it. Then I'd picture myself having dinner with Tara, her man candy and the rest of the gang, completely humiliated. Permanently alone. I really didn't want to face that reality, so I was going waste a little money and make myself feel better, if only temporarily.

By lunch I'd created Mark and a beautiful love story with an unfortunately tragic ending. His basic life story was that he was born right here in the big city, perfect because no one could possibly know everybody in this city. His parents were poor, humble people, his father a mailman and his mother a housewife, who, unfortunately, passed away in a car accident a few years ago. Their last dying wish was to see Mark get married and settle down happily with the girl of his dreams. He had worked very hard through out high school to get a soccer scholarship at Princeton where he majored in, what else, botany. He now works privately sponsored by some big drug company, trying to find a cure for leukemia, his grandfather died from leukemia, in exotic plants that are shipped in from Bosnia, where he spent the better part of the past five years. But now he's come back to his home, trying to domesticate his life away from his travels and settle down with the right woman… cue to gaze at me adoringly.

I liked Mark very much after all of this. Steady, but not dull. Mature, but not boring. Successful, yet adventurous. Maybe he wasn't flesh and blood, but we could do something about that with a bit of money.

After lunch, a small sandwich and more herbal tea, I began to look through the Yellow Pages for acting agencies. This city was full of aspiring actors, some of which could actually act, convincing themselves that if they keep trying then maybe someday they could get discovered in one of their small plays. I could have just as easily scanned the internet and come up with one in a matter of seconds, but all those poor agencies who couldn't afford to have a website were exactly the ones I was looking for. I ran my fingers through the pages, and searched for the smallest ad. I copied down the numbers of agents with the cheapest looking ads, one in particular leaped out at me: "Mad Moddy's Acting Agency, Making Stars Since 1958." That was the one, I was sure of it. Just looking at the 8 word ad, I wasn't about to hire someone who was going to be on the next issue of Vanity Fair. Mad Moddy was probably just some guy from the old days, trying to stay in the game, representing actors who couldn't get signed with anyone else, but desperate to be listed with anybody.

Mark and I were ready now to make the next leap in our relationship. It was a little scary, and I was nervous, but if anything was going to happen between us, I knew I'd have to make the first move. And it didn't hurt that I kept picturing Tara's laughing head. So with that little bit of encouragement, I sat down and took that crucial first step. I called Mad Moddy. After five rings a man answered with a low, gravelly British accent, sounding more than slightly out of breath.

"Mad Moddy here."

"Yes. Hi. My name is Raven Roth and I'm interested in hiring an actor," he didn't say anything then I heard a choking sound, "Uh, hello?"

"Sorry. I had something caught in my throat. You want to hire an actor? Great. That's great. Can you tell me a little bit about the part?"

"I'm looking for someone to play the part of a successful botanist, about 30 years old. He's extremely handsome, sensitive, intelligent and financially secure."

"Uh huh."

"Now he's not just a botanist. He's a very interesting person in his own right. He travels and is trying to find a cure for cancer. Oh, and he's got a great sense of humor."

There was a pause until, "Anything else?" I could his pencil scratching against a pad.

"He's very, very handsome. Its absolutely crucial to the role. Do you have anybody who's available?"

"Depends, for when?" He's trying to sound as if he's got all of his actors booked.

"Wednesday to Sunday."

"Okay, there are about ten guys who'd be perfect that I can think of right off the top of my head right now." Well, there it was. Women spend God only knows how much money, time, and energy trying to find the right man. But call Mad Moddy, and he's got ten perfect guys for you in less than minutes.

"That's great."

"Now, if I may ask. What's this for? A feature? TV?"

"Uh… well not exactly. You see Moddy, I'm a busy career woman-"

"Ahhh, I understand perfectly. This is one of those business, role playing, conference guest-speaker presentation things right?" Hey, he said it, not me.

"Yes, yes that is exactly what this is." Mad Moddy was just about ready to believe anything.

"Well great, so when do you want to meet him?"

I choked on my tea, "Excuse me, meet him?"

"Yeah, one of those ten guys just happened to walk into my office right now and I quickly handed him a written hand down of your character…. He's nodding yes." Call it a hunch, but I had a stinking suspicion that there weren't ten guys.

"Uh, well. Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure. Tomorrow would be perfect."

"Ok, Tomorrow at 1. Starbucks on Main and Gerard St. You know, the one by the Plumbing Shoppe?"

"Yeah, yeah. I got it. He'll meet you there. He'll be the one wearing the brown leather jacket."

"Uh, great."

"Great, tomorrow then, Ms. Roth."

"Wa-wait. Can I get his name?"

"Gar, Garfield Logan"

The next day I sat at the window seat of the Starbucks two blocks away from my apartment, right by the door so I could see everyone who came in. I had a grande sized herbal tea and about three biscotti's before I realized he was 4 minutes late and that I was anxious. My eyes were jerking from guy to guy and my hands were clammily, one gripping the empty Starbucks cup, nearly crushing it with apprehension, the other annoyingly clicking a pen. I watched as guy after guy came in and out, hopelessly not finding a single man with a brown leather jacket. Until he walked in.

The guy had a swagger, he wore a faded brown leather jacket and his face was like that of an angel. I sat there with a huge grin on my face when he smiled at me and... walked right past me to peck his girlfriend on the cheek behind me. Damn. I began to lose hope around 1:45 that he was gunna come at all and stopped paying attention to the door. I idly started to doodle on napkins with the pen I had been incessantly clicking.

I suppose this should have been a sign for me. A divine signal from the boss upstairs telling me that what I was doing was stupid. Call it foreshadowing, but he was late 45 minutes. Then I don't know what happened. I saw it coming too, but failed to react properly to the situation. With my elbow jutted out to the side, I accidentally knocked over the newly refreshed cup of tea sitting at the edge of my table. It seemed to go in slow motion, as if mocking me, taunting me about the huge mess it was about to make and the embarrassment I was about to go through, when a hand reached out and grabbed it off the edge, placing it back neatly on the table with only a few drops of spilled tea.

I looked up at my captor and came face to face with the greenest eyes I had ever seen. It was him, he grinned at me and I noticed how sharp his canines were. Good job Raven, meet a cute guy, and the first thing you think is 'his canines are sharp'? His hair was a dirty blonde and messily strewn around his head in a sexy I-just-got-out-of-bed way. The brown leather jacket was there as instructed, it was slightly faded at the elbows and was buttoned right up giving only a glimpse of his forest green v-neck. The way he wore his jacket gave the impression that he worked out, not in excess but at least once a week. His jeans hugged him nicely and in such a way that you could tell he had a cute butt, a cute butt was important to the mission. He stood up fully and time went back to normal.

He offered me his hand to shake, "Hi, I'm Gar Logan? The actor?" I slowly took his hand and nodded my head; I was too busy picturing our children to reply. Well at least Mad Moddy hadn't lied about his looks, but could he act? And if he could, why the hell was he still with Moddy?

"How did you know it was me?" His grin grew and he indicated to my napkin with his eyes. O God. I didn't. I had been subconsciously written his name over and over again and surrounded it with question marks of all shapes and sizes. I was just about ready to die. I'm sure my face turned 5 different shades of red as I tried to recover.

"Oh, that. I was just trying to remember your name." He nodded and gestured to sit down. I nodded and crumpled up the damn napkin and stuffed it into my pocket, probably more aggressively than I would have liked.

"So," he began, "Mod tells me you need a role-player for a business conference." Here's a piece of advice for future reference: In a relationship, it's best to start of completely honest with your partner. Otherwise, you're both in for quite a ride. And not a happy one at that. I nodded my head and took a deep breath.

Then I took leap, "Gar, can I call you Gar?" He nodded. "I'm going to be honest with you. But if I tell you the truth, you're going to have to recognize that I am trusting you and you have to understand my current situation. Don't freak out, don't panic, and don't tell your agent." He turned his head to the side, his eyes never leaving mine. He was confused, and I would be too if I was sitting there talking to myself.

"I'm not looking for a role-player for a business conference. As a matter of fact, I don't even work for a company. I'm looking for a guy… to play my boyfriend in front of my friends." I squinted at that last part, expecting him to burst out laughing and walk away. But he didn't, he just sat there staring at me as if he didn't understand what I just said. His face looked as if there was something on my face and he was trying to figure out what it was.

"Now don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with me and I'm perfectly sane. It's just my friends are very difficult people and…" I sighed, "I'm still going to pay you." With that he seemed as if he snapped out of his trance.

"So, what does this job entail exactly," He said with the same look on his face. I sighed with relief at the fact that he hadn't run away yet.

"Well, a 'date' on Wednesday with my friends and their boyfriends… then an over night to my friends cottage this weekend." He looked down at the table and nodded. O Lord, he thinks I'm crazy. He's just patronizing me and he's gunna say he'll be there and not show up. Leaving me in my own stupid creation.

He continued nodding, "Okay, do you have any other information on the character?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, "Wait, why is this not weird to you? How do you know I'm not playing a practical joke?"

"Are you?"

"No."

"Good, glad to have that out of the way," he shrugged and looked up at me, leaning into the table with his elbows, "I don't find it weird because I understand. Friends can be pretty harsh, even if they're looking out for you. Mind you I've never done such an intimate role with someone with no experience, but it's not impossible. Now how much are you willing to pay me?"

I as taken aback, I hadn't expected him to be so understanding, "Depends, how good are you?"

He leaned back on his chair and laughed, "Okay, okay. Tell me about this guy first."

"Okay, his name is Mark Graham. He's a botanist and is very handsome, intelligent and-" He raised a hand at me.

"I already know that stuff. All of that is surface. I wanna know what makes him tick, what's his goal? His hopes, his dreams, his fears, his nightmares. You know?"

"Yeah, I think I know what you're getting at," I was still skeptical about his openness but decided to just go with it. It is what I asked for after all, damn it. "He grew up here from a poor family-"

"So he's not foreign to struggle."

"No, and his parents were a mailman and a housewife-" He began to get accustomed to interrupting me. I was going to say something but there was a look in his eyes, he was staring past me and looked as is if he was seeing Mark Graham relive his life.

"He would end up being traditional, old-fashioned."

"Yes, and we worked his way through high school, getting a soccer scholarship to Princeton-"

"He's smart, hardworking, determined. He wanted to, make his parents proud. He's kind of a momma's boy."

"Where he majored in botany-"

"Nature-lover. Probably loves animals too."

"For the past five years he's been working in Bosnia looking at exotic plants for a cure for leukemia, because that's what his grandfather died-"

"I can just picture it. Playing in grandpa's backyard. Taking hikes and going fishing with him. He taught him how to respect nature and that there are secrets in plants that others haven't even discovered yet, that's where his love for plants began. Then one day, grandpa's gone, and there's nothing to bring him back. He's devastated and right then and there he vows that he will do his best to make sure another person doesn't have to go through what he has." I swear I had a tear in my eye. Just hearing him say that made me want to hug him. He was so fully committed to his craft that just brainstorming he's already picturing himself as the character. Why was this guy with an agent like Mad Moddy?

"A couple years back, his parents died and their last dying wish was for him to settle down, so-"

"So he came back from Bosnia to look for his soul mate and hasn't found her … until now." I smiled and nodded, amazed by his insight.

"Until now." He smiled back and I swear he had a moment.

He clapped his hands, "Great, so how much are you paying me." Suddenly that moment faded away and I remembered that this was an actor I was hiring to make my more than pitiful life looks somewhat less pathetic.

"I can afford about $150 and appearance."

"What? That's $300," he protested. Good, he'd been paying attention and he picks up quick.

"Why is that a problem?"

"Yes it's a problem. You know I'm not just a guy to show off as arm candy, to make this remotely believable I gotta do my research. What if one of your friends ask a botanic question? There's work to be put in this you know. Plus the second one's two days." I rose up my hands in defeat. God, don't have to have a bitch-fit.

"Okay, okay. I'll give you $150 for the 1st one and $250 for the 2nd one. Which by the way is not two days but three, we leave on Friday." He looked at me as if considering the offer then finally nodded, sticking his hand out to shake on it.

"Throw in food prices and you've got a deal." I took his hand and nodded in return. Stupid actor pricks.

A/N: I think Raven was really out of character here, oh well.

CLUE: Every solution to a problem creates new problems of its own