Not Your Type (Chris Pine FanFic)

Chelsea

It was noon on black Friday and Chelsea was still in bed.  Her early bedtime had caused her to wake early, but she had stayed comfortably under the comforter.  A book she had been neglecting had been read and emails she had ignored had been responded to.  (One email was actually to a principal about a long term sub position!)  If she was honest with herself, she was really just avoiding getting ready.  Chelsea had dreamt of fabulous cocktail dresses, but awoke realizing she didn’t have anything that fabulous to wear.   She had a little black dress and a little white dress, both she had already worn out with Chris.  Chelsea quickly realized this is something she should’ve thought about Wednesday.  She flirted briefly with the idea of shopping, but once she realized it was black Friday she decided staying in bed and reading was a much better option. 

The book she was reading was dry (her aunt had recommended a book about the various Presidents of the United States and a little club they had formed) and she found herself dozing off.   In the middle of one of these snoozes she heard a knock and was shot out of bed.   Grabbing her phone she checked the clock, it was only one.   Her heart raced.  Granted, Chris has seen her completely make-up free and all kinds of naked, but in lazy glory? They definitely weren’t to that point in their relationship.  She grabbed a toothbrush and glanced out the window.  Neither of his cars were parked in the street.  A car she didn’t recognize, a snazzy little BMW, was there.  She brushed furiously, quickly rinsed and ran down the stairs.

Peeking out the peep hole she saw two women, both other but impeccably dressed, and a rack of clothes.  The women were looking impatient and quite unhappy to be on her doorstep.  Slowly, she opened the door, just a crack, and asked, “May I help you?”

Exasperated the blonde replied, “Oh yes.  Chelsea? I’m Carolina,” she repeated her name for pronunciation sake, Car-o-leena, “and this is Ivan,” she repeated that too, Eeee-vawn, “and we’re here to help you for tonight.

“I beg your pardon?”

The brunette, who clearly had lost her patience five minutes ago, pushed past Carolina and pulled the rack with her, practically knocking Chelsea down.   “We are here to help you look photo ready for tonight.  Have you showered?”

Self-conscious, Chelsea was honest, “No.”

“Perfect,” at first she thought Ivan was being sarcastic, but that proved to be wrong, “Go bathe, do not wash your hair. I will be able to do more with it if it’s a little dirty.  You washed it yesterday, no?”

Chelsea nodded and was then scooted up the stairs to bathe leaving two strange women in her living room unpacking clothes and beauty products.   She bathed quickly, because having strangers downstairs was weird.   As she walked downstairs Carolina started talking to her. “We have to directions we can go.  Chris dresses two ways: classy or trendy.   He looks good in a suit, but can pull of a capri pant.”  The idea of any man, even Chris Pine, in capri pants made Chelsea grimace.  “Ok, so classy it is.” Ivan pushed several dresses to the side and began thumbing through the remains.   Chelsea was made to try on five different dresses.   The two women made the strangest faces when she showed them each outfit.  It was like she was a Jackson Pollack painting.  Both women pretending to appreciate something that, let’s be honest, wasn’t really art. 

“I like the pink,” Carolina stated.

“I like the purple,” Ivan counted. 

Chelsea was afraid to state her opinion.  Both the dresses the women picked were loud, tight, and short.  But both stylists looked expectantly at Chelsea.

“I really would like something more demur, less attention grabbing.”  Chelsea muttered.  She must have said the right thing because both women lit up.  Ivan went back to the rack of what Chelsea had assumed were the trendy dresses and came back with a charcoal grey dress. 

“Grey is the new black.”  Carolina stated, handing the dress over.   Chelsea took the dress upstairs and put in on.  She loved it.  It was still tight, but not as short.  It hit just above her knees.   The sweetheart neckline created cleavage she didn’t know she had.  Slowly she walked down the stairs, trying to hide how much she liked the dress. 

“Perfect.” The women said in unison. 

The next three hours were spent on hair and makeup. Much to Chelsea’s dismay the women pinned her hair partially up, revealing her scar.  She felt like she was on the “victory tour” again for her district.  They always demanded her hair be up to expose the scar and show the world her pain.  It brought out the donations.  A brief skeptical side of her brain wondered if Chris had specifically requested this and her mind went back to the paparazzi man.  She closed her eyes tight and fought the thought. 

“Accessories, accessories.  I’m thinking classy?  Chunky pearls or diamonds?”  Before Carolina could finish her thought Ivan was riffling through a bag.

“I have some pearls.”  Chelsea said softly.  They had been her grandmother’s.  She went upstairs, in the burgundy shoes the women had her practicing walking in.  They were Louboutin’s, the red sole gave them away and Chelsea was in love with them.  After a few minutes of digging she found them and put them on.  Glancing at her reflection she almost didn’t recognize herself.  The make-up looked remarkably natural.  Her hair shimmered and she found herself not looking at her scar, but at her whole ensemble.   She proudly walked down the stairs.  She could hear the women talking, almost giddily, about how proud they were of their work.  Chelsea stood up a little straighter, it boosted her confidence all the more to hear them talking about her amongst themselves when she wasn’t within earshot. 

As she took the last step her breath caught.  They hadn’t been talking about her amongst themselves afterall.  In slacks, a button down shirt that was not completely buttoned, and a blazer stood Chris.  It was clear he too had been styled.  The hair gave it away.  Chelsea had noticed his hair was never as well done as she’d seen it in pictures, but today it was perfect.  Time seemed to stand still as they just took each other in.

“Hi.”  Chelsea said softly with a smile.  Then she looked to the two stylists.  “Do these work?”

“Perfectly.” They spoke in unison again .

“You look,” Chris started as he walked toward her.  That familiar look was in his blue eyes and all thoughts of ex-girlfriends and photogs fluttered away. 

“It took a lot of work.”  She smirked.

“Not true.”  Carolina interjected.

Chelsea laughed, “They’re lying.” Chris was so close she could smell him.  “You smell nice.”

He smiled and leaned in, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Ready?” He whispered into her ear.  Her nerves snapped awake, the soft wind of his breath tickling her.

“Did you not trust me to dress myself?”  She whispered.

He laughed and leaned back, “I thought this would be fun. Thanks ladies.”  The two women showed themselves out.  It was weird how quickly they disappeared.  It was also weird that Chris didn’t explain it at all. A strange, sinking feeling flooded her stomach. She brushed it off, he looked amazing and she could focus on little else.  He slipped his hand into hers and lead her out of the house.  Chelsea looked forward to what she imagined to be an incredible evening, though she couldn't fight the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach.