Not Your Type (Chris Pine FanFic)

The Party

Glancing over his shoulder, he checked to see if her drink was full.  It was.  When they initially arrived Chelsea stayed quite close to Chris’ side.  He could sense how uncomfortable she was just by how she stood just slightly behind him.   The dinner party had a “cocktail hour” which Chris was used to.   He requested another vodka martini from the bartender and made his way across the room to Chelsea.  She stood alone, staring out of the window.  Chris hadn’t meant to leave her alone, but his agent pulled him aside and began to discuss his travel itinerary for the promotional tour that Disney now trusted him to embark on. 

Chelsea didn’t notice him walk up.   Her eyes were fixated on the beauty of the ranch.  The rolling hills of California, some lined with vineyards, were beautiful even in the winter.   Looking out at the landscape was more comforting than people watching.   The whole event reminded her of charity events she’d attended aplenty over the past year.   Everyone was wearing their best, most expensive outfit.  Chelsea looked down at her own outfit.  How much did the gorgeous shoes cost anyway?  How many books for a classroom would they buy?  It made her nauseous just to think about it.  Granted, charity events always donated money, but if everyone chipped in a bit of the money they spent on the extravagances of designer clothes or top shelf liquor what great things could be done?  Chelsea was in the middle of the thought when Chris touched her arm.  She jumped.

“Are you ok?”

She really didn’t want to be mad at him, none of her ridiculous feelings were his fault.  Chelsea decided this frustrated state was the cause of the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach, not Chris.  Who knew how much Chris had paid the stylists and that money could have easily gone to something more beneficial.  She shook her head slightly, to rid her head of these ridiculous, borderline judgmental thoughts.

“No? What’s wrong?”  Chris asked, gripping her arm with more force.

“I’m ok.  Just lost in thought.”  She sipped her merlot, hoping to ease her racing mind and frantic nerves.

“Hopefully cocktail hour will be over soon and we’ll start with the actual dinner party.” Chris gazed out the window, wondering what was so entrancing to Chelsea out in the dead grass and browning hills.

“Cocktail hour? Seriously?”

Chris furrowed his eyebrows at her.  The look stunned Chelsea, he really seemed shocked and almost frustrated that she had responded in such away, like everyone attended cocktail hours.  “Of course, cocktails before dinner.”  Chris was a bit taken back by her response, she was almost condescending with her sarcasm and his response mirrored that.

Mildly hurt by his response Chelsea softly replied, “I’ve only attended cocktail parties at weddings.”  She took a larger sip of the wine.  Chris furrowed his eyebrows at her again.  “Strange,” he whispered and they stood in silence.   He felt like she was upset and not telling him.  For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. It’s not like talking about cocktail parties they attended warranted a fight.  She was wearing a designer gown, was pampered by his favorite stylists and at a very elite party.  Women are strange.     They continued to stand, roughly six inches apart, in the thick air.  Finally, Chelsea bent and stepped closer so her body was touching Chris’ just slightly.  The touch was reassuring to Chris and he slid his arm around her waist and kissed the side of her forehead.

Chelsea felt an urge to tell him how the whole situation frustrated her.   Instead she just sighed, leaned into him and enjoyed his presence.  It was surreal, knowing that she was in the embrace of someone so famous, so attractive and so completely hers.

Feeling her sigh, Chris had that urge to take her aside and tell her how thankful he was for how things hard turned out.  A month or two ago this all seemed so farfetched.  He had been angry at his agent and publicist for suggesting something so amoral, yet in the end it all seemed to work out.  He had a new appreciation for the woman standing next to him.   The guilty feeling no longer flooded him, he honestly felt like she’d understand.