Chapter 1

Her heart was beating very fast, fast and hard. So hard that she felt it would beat straight tout through her ribcage. She could feel her blood pumping; in the base of her stomach, hear it in her ears, even see it on the backs of her eyes. Travelling along at 70 miles an hour the blood rushing around her body was almost all she was aware of. Well, almost. She was scared, she knew that much, yet only of what could happen, not of whom she was with. He looked of his shoulder at her with his big green eyes, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She held on tighter, silently willing him to focus on the road. She could feel the planes of his chest and stomach through the thin material of his kaki t-shirt.

He had given her his motorcycle jacket, in a vague hope of making her feel safer on the back of his bike, and to reassure her mum that she would be fine with both leathers and a helmet, her conditions to let Cas go out at all on a motorbike. But Cas was glad of it, not because of the cold she was wearing her favourite trench coat, but because it enveloped her in his smell, a sharp spicy smell yet soft with a hint of vanilla.

His back was warm against her cheek as she tried to slow her breath enough to sit up and ask "how much further?" into his ear. As she sat up, she left the shelter his back was giving, entering the wind blowing against them, causing her long black hair escaping from under her helmet to blow away behind her. He answered her question without turning around, much to her belief, his voice rumbling through his body to her ear, making her shiver. She didn't know what was coming next but she knew that Dean, with his short light brown hair, strong arms and sparkling, shockingly green eyes, would take care of her.

She had noticed him at school, it was hard not to. Peaking over which ever book she had her nose pressed into, she had followed him with her eyes, taking in his strong shoulders, the way the world shined brighter when he laughed his care-free laugh, always with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, radiating his nonchalant attitude. She had realised the first time she saw him that he was miles out of her league. Yet she just couldn't stop thinking about him. Picturing them together on a picnic was her favourite, out in the woods near her house, his green eyes lovingly staring into her clear blue ones, the mottled shade rippling over them.

And yet there she was, her arms wrapped around him on the back of his motorbike. She knew he had a car, for driving his younger brother Sam to school. It was a truly beautiful car, a Chevrolet Impala 1967. Its growling purr made her shiver almost as much as the thought of its owner did. She would have preferred him to have driven that; it would have been safer at least. Although that would have meant convocation, not her strong point. So maybe the motorbike is better. The roar of the engine making even the banal comments on the weather or school impossible, once again, much to her relief.

She spent most of her time in and out of school in the library with her blue eyes glued to the pages of whichever book she could get her hands on, although history or romance were her favourites; all this to avoid small talk which she could not reciprocate. That's why Dean's sudden introduction and date proposal came as such a surprise to her. Cas tried her hardest to be invisible, blending into park benches, lockers, and classroom walls, being as much the proverbial chameleon as possible, although she drew the line at eating flies. She knew that chameleons did really change colour to fit into their surroundings but rather to show their mood. In Cas' case this would have been beetroot. She spent an awful lot of time blushing; if she dropped her pen, coughed in a quiet moment in class, bumped into someone no matter how lightly in the corridors, anything really.

So when Dean approached her table at lunch and slid in opposite her, she went the brightest shade of red ever. She couldn't see herself of course just feel the colour rising from the toes of her socks to her hairline. He sat there for a bit waiting for her to say something. But in true Cas fashion she just sat there staring awkwardly at her spaghetti Bolognese, cooling on her tray. She looked up at him briefly, attempting to say something but just opened and shut her mouth like a fish, until realising she had nothing to say closed her mouth and continued staring at her food, feeling his eyes on her. He must have noticed her discomfort as he started simply.

"Hi Cas isn't it? My name's Dean. Well, um… I saw you sitting here on your own, as you seem to do a lot." The realisation that he had noticed her around, made the colour in Cas' cheeks darken, if that was possible. "I… um… wondered if you wanted to grab a shake and uh… some pie some time? I know a great place." He must have seen her hesitance as he added "only if you want to of course…"

She couldn't believe it, it must be a joke. Probably one of her brother's, he loved messing with people. But Dean seemed nervous; she had never imagined he could be, not with the confident and care-free step of his long gait. She suddenly realised she had left the question hanging in the air between them.

"Yeah… um… sure... I guess…" Idiot she thought to herself. Couldn't she have said something a little more eloquent?

He reached across the table, "may I?" taking her wrist in his left hand and a pen out of his pocket with his right. She looked up in confusion.

"If I give you my number, can I trust you to text me?" she didn't want to risk embarrassing herself again, she nodded her head.

He chuckled to himself, lightly pressing the nib of the pen to her skin and running it quickly yet delicately across the back of her hand, passing it back when he had finished. He obviously hand practice, she thought.

"Text me when you decide you are free on Friday." With that he got up, smiled at her and walked away in his usual manner.

Cas just sat there, staring after him, wishing for the ground to swallow here up, at the same time a heavenly chorus was singing 'Halleluiah' in her head. Finally, at the age of 17; her first date.