Typing || Destiel

...thirty four

Incoming call from Dean Winchester

"Hello?"

"Hey Cas, it's me."

"Dean. Hey."

"Long time no talk. Heh."

"Yeah, crazy long time."

"So, uh, how've you been?"

"Great. And you?"

"I'm okay."

"Good. That's good."

"Yeah..."

"So, uh, about you inviting me out."

"Oh, right...you know, if you have someone who isn't comfortable with you hanging out with me I get it. Or if you don't want to I also get that. I really do."

"There isn't anybody else in my life right now that would care who I go out with, Castiel. I was actually about to ask when and where you wanted to meet."

"Oh. Well I'm an idiot."

"Haha, you're fine. Where are you living now?"

"I actually just moved from the town we went to college in. Which is weird since I dropped out two years ago. Anyway, now I'm living in the town two towns over from that one. It's called Oarkridge."

"Really? That's so weird! I've been living in Oarkridge for three years!"

"Well isn't that just a perfect coincidence."

"It really is."

"Anyway, where do you wanna meet?"

"How about that new little coffee house at the end of Main Street. You know where that is?"

"Yeah, I know exactly where that is."

"How's noon?"

"Noon's perfect."

"Great. I'll see you then."

-

I drive up to the coffee house, my rough palms sweaty and my breath warm and heavy. I'm about to see him. The him I haven't seen in forever. The him who broke my heart. I always have to remind myself of what he did, it's what keeps me sane, but now I'm about to see him and it doesn't seem to matter. I take a deep breath before opening the door, the metal cold in my hand.

Once I'm inside, I look around for Dean. "Hey there!" A voice says. I look in front of me to see a skinny woman with curly hair that's tied up in a high ponytail. She looks to be around 18 or 19 years old. I swear I've seen her before. "Hi," I try to be as polite as I can, "can I help you?"

"Oh! Sorry, I totally forgot to introduce myself! I'm Jessica, the daughter of the owner of the place," she locks her eyes with mine, and the color of them takes me aback. They're greener than anything I've ever seen before. They're, well, beautiful. Now I know what Dean truly meant when he used to compliment my eyes, saying things like, "they're bluer than the bluest ocean." God, he used to try so hard.

"Anyway, you can chose where you wanna sit, this isn't some fancy restaurant where we seat you," Caroline finishes.

"Thank you," I look her up and down for a second, "I'm sorry, do I know you from somewhere?"