Not Your Type (Chris Pine FanFic)

Chris

Chris wasn't sure what woke him up first, the evil line of light from the window or the throbbing in his head. He moaned and tried to remember the events from the night. Thursday night was typically college night, a friend of his had suggested they hit up this dive for a live band he'd never heard of. He enjoyed live music so he agreed. He remembered paparazzi. He remembered shitty questions thrown his way about meeting married women. He remembered one pap asking if his "Disney princess" knew where he was. That initiated drinking, lots of drinking. He remembered Jeff arriving and asking him about Chelsea. He remembered the college girls coming to their booth. He remembered getting in a car.

He slowly opened his eyes and groaned again. The light hurt. Perhaps his mother was right, he was too old for this type of behavior. He looked up at the ceiling. An old looking fan whirled above him.

"Shit," he whispered. He'd gone home with someone. This is bad. Rubbing his temples he started to plan his get away. Looking around the room, he tried to piece together who was breathing softly next to him. The room was exceptionally plain. There were even a few boxes that weren't completely unpacked. His blood ran cold, what if this college student was a new college student. Married woman to eighteen year old? Holy shit. He rubbed his temples harder then continued to look around.

Slowly he turned his head, hoping to see the face of the woman sleeping next to him and hoping not to aggravate the oncoming hangover. Just as he suspected, her back was to him. She was curled up, breathing rhythmically. He took in the curve of her body. She was wearing a t-shirt with various advertisements on the back, sponsors of a 5k. A runner. The 5k was from Austin. Chris took a deep breath and said a silent prayer that the woman was not a freshman in college. Something was on her neck, he slowly reached forward to move the messy brown hair that had fallen out of the makeshift bun she had on her head. It was a tattoo. His contacts were sticky and blurry from sleeping in them, so he couldn't see it well. He touched her neck. She wiggled under his touch, then reached her hand back, rubbing at her neck as if a bug had crawled on her. Then she rolled over.

Chris' mouth fell open in shock. This wasn't a college student, but he didn't feel relief. He felt confused surprise. How did I get here? What have I done? His thoughts were frantic.

She was captivating as she slept. Her lips were just slightly parted and almost smirked at him. Her choppy bangs, in need of a trim, fell over one eye. One hand was under her cheek, the other she had placed squarely between them. He glanced around the room again. It no longer looked plain, the boxes made sense. Chelsea hadn't been here long and he was sure she missed Texas. She hadn't considered the move to LA permanent, he could just tell. Books were stacked all over, she was smart. On the nightstand was a laptop, a funky lamp, and a photo. He blinked hard so he could see it. She was with a group of people, right in the middle, on a beach. The sky was dark and ominous, but the smiles lit up the scene. He looked back at her and brushed her hair out of her face. She smiled slightly, then snuggled right up against his chest.

For a brief moment he worried again about the parts of the night he couldn't remember, but the moment was fleeting. He breathed in the clean scent of her hair and kissed the top of her head. He forgot about his throbbing head as he pulled her in closer. This was a mess, but at this moment he just wanted to hold her and go back to sleep.