Not Your Type (Chris Pine FanFic)

Chelsea

Chris stared earnestly at her, but all Chelsea could think of was asking him if he had been drinking. How could he possibly be serious? They'd only known each other two months! Not even two months really.

"Chris, I..." Chelsea said, but she didn't know how to begin.

"You don't have to say anything," he whispered, sounding let down. He kissed her forehead.

Her mind raced. Where to start? He took her hand in his, softly interlocking his fingers with hers. He looked so sad.

"Don't be sad," Chelsea said. Chris smiled slightly. "This is just terrifying for me." His eyes shot up skeptically. "I mean, you're not terrifying. Well, really you sort of are. I mean geez..." Chelsea stared at their hands. "I'm rambling. I'm sorry." He smiled again. "I'm crazy about you, I really am. Any woman with a pulse would be. My emotions are just so messed up." Chelsea couldn't believe what she was saying. She certainly couldn't believe she was droning on about her emotional issues when a beautiful shirtless man sat in front of her, holding her hands and telling her he loved her. "You scare me." She pulled her hand it of his, placed it in his chin and forced him (and herself) to give eye contact. "When I look at you like this I'm scared that I will tell you anything. You and your blue eyes have this power over me, I swear. I'm afraid because you're you. Everyone loves you, everyone wants to be with you. You could have anyone in the world."

"But I'm here with you," Chris placed his hand on her waist.

"And that's what's terrifying!" He laughed. "I'm so in love with these moments." Chris grinned. "I'm afraid of growing attached to all of it and then it will..." she realized this wasn't a crazy, unwarranted fear. Drew always talked to her about getting over her fear of teaching again, of tornados and of love. She was afraid of losing Chris, "I'm afraid you'll realize how crazy this all is and find someone better."

His eyebrows furrowed, but he said nothing. Chelsea took a deep breath. It was time for her to stop being afraid and just enjoy the moment. Chelsea understood she was never guaranteed another. She slid forward, pressing her half-naked chest against his bare-chest. The skin on skin contact was electrifying.

"Screw being scared." Chris cocked an eyebrow, she knew he must think she was crazy, rambling on like she did and then pulling this. "I may not love you yet," she kissed him, "but that doesn't mean I'm not in that messy process of falling in love with you." She kissed him hard then whispered, "Sorry for sounding crazy. I've told you, you drive me crazy."

He smiled and leaned back, laying down and pulling Chelsea on top on him. His hands made their way back to the clasp of her bra, this time she said nothing to deter him.

***

Chelsea watched Chris' hand. It slowly traced back and forth on the scar on her stomach. His eyes were closed, his breathing rhythmic. Chris was laying on his stomach, his arm on her belly. Chelsea was on her back, truthfully she was just as exhausted as the sleeping man next to her but she couldn't sleep. It was as if every nerve in her body was wide awake. The feather-soft feeling of Chris' fingertips on her skin wasn't helping. His touch was electric. Chelsea forced herself to close her eyes. She knew she wouldn't sleep so she simply relived the last hour.

Her conscience fought her at first, but she had eventually just given in. In all honestly, saying no to Chris would've been impossible. The look in his eyes, the strong desire that shimmered blue, made her fold. Everything started slow. Soft touches, deep looks. Chelsea took full responsibility for the increase in speed and intensity. She hadn't been intimate with anyone in a very, very long time. Though she told herself she didn't need anything physical, evidently she had been very wrong. It was incredible. Chelsea wasn't sure why that fact surprised her. Opening her eyes again she looked at the man next to her. Of course he had practice in this area. Of course he was good. Secretly, she felt proud of herself. The messy hair, his deep sleep, she was going to take credit for that. Chelsea may not have had as much practice as him, but she was good at what she did. I wore Chris Pine out.

Smiling proudly she reached over and ran her fingers through his tousled hair. A muffled moan escaped his lips. The movement on her belly ceased. Perhaps without her nerves being tickled she could sleep.

And sleep she did. Chelsea awoke to the sound of a door closing and it caused her to shoot up abruptly. All she remembered was amazing sex and that she didn't want her roommates to learn of it. As quickly as she sat up she covered herself. Surveying the room she noticed that Chris was gone. Of course he was. A feeling of stupidity filled her stomach. What if Chris only said those words to get her into bed? He'd gotten what he wanted and now he was gone. She felt sleazy. She'd never been left in bed like this before. Well, that was a lie. Her husband would sneak out to teach summer school while she slept, but that was different.

"No." Chelsea whispered to herself. Unsure if she was saying, no Chris wouldn't do that or no, don't compare Chris and Paul. She contemplated coffee, but decided on a shower. While letting the hot water cover her body she swore she heard another door slam, maybe two. Ridiculous, she told herself, you're being ridiculous. Being alone in the house made her hear things evidently.

She dried off and gazed at the counter. Again Chelsea found herself daydreaming about sitting on the counter, being lifted up and carried to bed. She shook her head. She didn't want to keep thinking about it and then have it never happen again. But man, that one time had been so good.

Smiling at her reflection, she pulled her robe on and went downstairs. Coffee, she needed coffee. Then she would dress and go downtown to the shelter. As she walked into the kitchen something caught her eye.

A coffee cup. A Starbucks coffee cup.

What on earth?

Chelsea walked over to the kitchen table. She touched the cup, it was warm. Turning the cup she looked at the black pen, PSL. Smiling broader, she put the cup to her lips and let the cinnamon and nutmeg flood her mouth. Then she noticed the napkins. The brown, recycled Starbucks napkins had black pen on them as well.

Sorry I didn't wake you. You were to beautiful and peaceful. Enjoy your Thanksgiving (and coffee, who knew Starbucks was open today?) and I will see you tomorrow. Pick you up at 5.

-Chris

She definitely didn't feel sleazy anymore.