Not Your Type (Chris Pine FanFic)

Chelsea

Fuming, Chelsea sat in the passenger seat.  The short speech Chris gave her about “wine” just infuriated her more.  For a few moments she’d started to think she was overreacting and that what the agent had said wasn’t even true.  But the guilty speech about wine growing on you made those thoughts stop.  That and the swearing Chris was doing outside of the car. Why was he swearing?  What was so upsetting to him about this? It wasn’t like she’d been lying to him for the past few months.  Chelsea assumed he was upset because he thought she would ruin his little plan.   It wouldn’t be hard to do that either.  She could make some easy money with the right phone calls. 

But she wouldn’t do that. 

As Chelsea watched Chris get into the car, attempting to hide his frustration and worry, she felt sorry for him.   As a teacher for many years she’d learned how important her reputation was.  Before major holidays and summer vacation her principal used to lecture the entire staff on the importance of being seen correctly out in the community.  The principal always offered to be the designated driver to any of her teachers.  If a teacher was under the microscope of the community, how much worse was  it for celebrities?  More than once Chelsea had made snap judgments about the couplings of celebrities.  She’d done it to Chris Pine himself when she’d seen him dating models a good decade younger than him.  Given everything that had been in the press over the last year he needed a reputation make-over.  It was flattering that she was picked for this situation really.  If only she’d been asked. 

And she was back to feeling stupid again.

Chris fiddled with the radio, finally settling on some very hipster station.   The sound was a strange blend of The Lumineers and techno.  After about thirty seconds  someone began to talk over the strange music.  It was like bad propaganda.  Chelsea giggled.  The mood lightened and Chris sighed.

“I’m just going to turn it off.”

“Sounds good.”  Chelsea hated how much she liked him.  She hated how she wasn’t staying angry.

Chris started to speak but was interrupted by the Bluetooth receiver announcing an incoming call. He groaned then asked permission to answer.  Chelsea simply nodded her approval.

“Hello?”

“I have your travel itinerary.  Do not shoot the messenger.” It was his assistant.

Chris glanced at Chelsea, his eyes asking her if he could continue the phone call.

“Go ahead,” she whispered and gently touched his forearm. I'm going to miss those arms. 

“Go ahead,” Chris told the bodiless voice. 

“We need to get you to Europe, that’s where everything starts.  It’s four stops.  You’ll fly out red-eye, so sorry about that, from LAX to Heathrow.  First stop is London.  You’ll enjoy that.  After two days there you’ll jump to Berlin.  Berlin to Barcelona, Barcelona to Paris.  Paris you can take a day or two, or travel around the area.  I have another flight for you out of Paris to Sydney.  You've got three days there.  Well, technically two . Then it's a hop over to Tokyo.  You'll come home for almost a week, nothing major here that week.  Christmas shop or something.  After that little break it's to Mexico City, New York and finally LA premiere 5 days before Christmas."

It was exhausting just to listen to the schedule.  The idea of jetsetting around the world was fabulous, but in less than a month? What sights could you possibly see?  The jetlag must be awful, Chelsea thought, once again feeling momentarily sorry for Chris.

Chris' reaction mirrored Chelsea's thoughts.  He sighed heavily and sad, "I'm glad they're allowing me on the press tour."  His voice was wooden, she wasn't sure he meant what he was saying.