Not Your Type (Chris Pine FanFic)

Chelsea

Chelsea distinctly remembered the feeling she had when she woke up in University Hospital in Lubbock. It was a bizarre, light, disoriented feeling. Strangely, she currently had the same feeling.

Tomorrow. Lunch. Lunch tomorrow.

She thought about the movie Just Friends with Ryan Reynolds. Day dates, lunch and the like, were strictly friend zone right? She looked at her feet, hoping to steady herself in case, in the most unlikely of cases, Chris was watching her walk into her house. If she didn't focus intently on her steps she was certain she'd walk like a drunk. Lunch date, not even a date. That's the friend zone. She laughed slightly at herself, shaking her head for actually taking such a ridiculous movie seriously. Her hand shook slightly as she placed her key in the lock and turned the handle.

Drew and Aaron sat on the couch, both drinking tea, watching a DVRed episode of The Daily Show. They looked up at her, slightly shocked.

"You're home early," Drew said, pausing the show.

"I got a ride, I didn't have to ride the bus." Do not sound giddy, do not incriminate yourself, she thought. She did not want to talk to Drew about the coffee, the drive, or lunch tomorrow.

"That's nice," he hit play and listened to Jon Stewart make fun of Ted Cruz, whom Drew and Chelsea were both very ashamed to share a state with.

Chelsea sighed, relieved, and went upstairs. It was late and her body was exhausted. She decided on a shower before bed instead of in the morning. It would give her time to flat iron her hair before lunch. She stripped and hopped in a near scalding shower.

She let the water beat on her back as she closed her eyes and let her mind wander.

What. A. Day. It didn't seem real. Honestly, the last year or so hadn't felt real. Ridiculous as it was, with a dripping hand she pinched herself. A girl like her didn't spend time with movie stars, especially ones who were at the peak of their success and looked like Chris Pine. The pinch hurt, perhaps this is real life, she thought with a smirk.

She began to lather up. Chelsea, in her normal fashion, started at her feet and worked her way up. Scrubbing over the tattoo in Khmer that laced the edge of her foot she smiled. What were the odds of Chris Pine having a Lonely Planet book on Cambodia in his car? That conversation made her feel quite good about herself. She had managed to sound intelligent (not all Americans would know the sad history of the genocide filled rule of Pol Pot.) and interesting.

The most interesting person he'd met. She continued to scrub and smiled fondly. He had fed her such a line, but geez it had worked. And it was easy to talk to him. Chelsea hadn't talked about the accident much, and as much as she didn't want to say Drew was right, it really did feel good to talk about it a little. But just a little. She scrubbed another scar. This one was across her belly. It looked like she'd had surgery, but it was just from another piece of the tin roof that had blown off. It hadn't been deep, but it left a long line.

No matter how many times she saw her scars, they always left a sad, achy feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. It was a weird combination of frustration at her lack of memories, sadness for her loss, and longing. She longed for normalcy. Teaching had been her passion, she'd done it for 6 years and loved every, long hour. It was a thankless job, sure, but the bright eyes of the children made up for it. Their smiles, hugs, and pictures draw on lined paper made everyday beautiful. After the accident she felt like a failure. She and her coworkers used to joke about the teachers who would lose kids on field trips. 'Who does that? What kind of horrible person does that?' they'd say accusingly. Terrible teacher. The words echoed in her head, terrible teacher. She scrubbed her shoulders. Chelsea lost a child. She held the child as the life slipped from his 7 year old body. Seven years. She'd lived four times that. How could she let that happen? Her eyes welled up with tears. She quickly turned and faced the hot water, as she did most showers when her thoughts wandered too far. The hot water made it to where she couldn't feel the tears.