Not Your Type (Chris Pine FanFic)

Chris

Aaron had disappeared to the driveway, practically chasing down a woman walking up a seafoam green bike. Now Jeff was rambling on about various gigs he recently had. Chris began to ponder the idea to surround himself with people. Perhaps this evening would have been better spent alone in his home with a bottle of vodka.

He was impressed by how much Jeff talked. He was still going when he began to hear people in the kitchen. He had been introduced to Drew, though not Garcia. He met two incredibly giggly women in the backyard whom he randomly caught staring at him. He had also met the few guys out in the backyard setting up the inflatable TV. These people were serious about their football. Aaron returned, Chris sat up expectantly. He was ready to not listen to Jeff anymore.

"I seriously cannot believe we're all here again. Our lives are so," Aaron's sentence died out.

"Different." Chris finished it. Jeff wanted to be a rock-star and played various gigs (which Chris could tell he was very proud of) around Los Angeles. Aaron had continued school, infact he was still enrolled. He was in a doctoral program at UCLA. He worked, or interned, Chris wasn't sure which, at a local crisis hotline with Drew. Drew already had his doctorate and also had a children's psychology practice, or was a partner, or something. Garcia's occupation had not been discussed, though from the pictures and map it was clear he traveled. There were pictures of a woman in a bikini holding what looked like the Brazilian flag behind her like a cape while the sun set over the ocean in the background. Next to this picture was another one of a lighthouse and many people sitting facing the sunset. It was a beautiful photo. He needed to go to South America. There were pictures of seemingly the same woman with a hispanic looking man, persumably Garcia, at the coliseum in Rome. Must be Garcia's girlfriend. She looked happy.

"Someday I hope to travel like you and Garcia," Aaron had caught Chris wandering away from the conversation.

"My trips tend to be quick, I haven't seen as much of the world as you think." He said coolly. He looked at Aaron, who briefly looked disgusted at the comment.

More sounds came from the kitchen, prompting Jeff to hop up, head to the counter, and call out, "Drew! G! Are you making Garcia's amazing and famous salsa?"

Oh that salsa, Chris made a conscious effort not to roll his eyes. Jeff had not stopped talking about this. He got up and joined Jeff at the kitchen counter in time to get a strong back pat from his friend and notice that Garcia was a woman.

Garcia's back was to them, she had brown hair that shimmered with flecks of red as she moved her head. The hair was in a high ponytail, which revealed a very interesting tattoo of what looked to be Arabic on the nape of her neck. She wore slightly faded jeans that fit her nicely. He found himself thinking of what size she was, not a model by any means, she was probably a size 4. She looked to be five and a half feet tall. She was wearing a Manning t-shirt.

He stopped himself. Why was he taking in her stats? What was wrong with him? Just because the was a woman he didn't need to start taking her in, taking note of her waist, backside (he selfishly took another glance here, Jeff looked so could he) or any physical features. This was what got him into trouble.

He quickly discussed with Jeff how he thought Garcia was a man. Jeff, quite rudely, pointed out the manliness of the female Garcia. He pointed out the Broncos shirt she was wearing. Chris shook his head. Everyone was a Bronco fan now that they were having such a spectacular season. He started to say as much but it clearly upset Garcia. She began to spout of random Broncos he had never heard of.

"Manly, perhaps. Bandwagon, never." Garcia said curtly as she turned around.

She was pretty. She had nice features and he couldn't deny it. Again, not a model, but prettier than the two girls in the backyard who were giggling and watching him through the window. She had choppy bangs that probably could use a trim as the fell just slightly into her eyes.

Her eyes. He locked his on to them. They were a warm chocolate brown with a deep, nearly black outline. As he smiled at her and she awkwardly smiled back and immediately glanced away. "Please don't be weird like the girls in the backyard," he silently asked as he kept watching her. She intently watched Jeff. Jeff was flirting with her. She wasn't having much of it. Suddenly she glanced back at Chris. The conversation continued as she and Drew finished the salsa. They went to college in Texas, but she was originally from Denver. Her accent said Texas though, as a sweet southern drawl escaped her lips with every quiet sentence. She had gotten considerably quieter since turning around to face them.

Salsa eating commenced. He was not expecting much, but it was actually divine. He complimented Garcia and smiled at her. She smiled back. Her teeth were straight and white, her lips sans any makeup had a lovely shape. He took in her face. She was normal. He had to admit he didn't surround himself with normal girls all to often. As he took in the spray of freckles across her nose, the milky whiteness of her skin, his eyes were drawn to a red line that started on the lower left side of her forehead, just at her hairline, then traveled along her hairline until the middle of her ear. A scar. What on earth had caused that and how did he not notice it earlier?

And just like that she walked away.