Not Your Type (Chris Pine FanFic)

Chris

Chris loved London. He'd spent so much time there throughout his life it often felt like a second home. The hotel he was staying at for the next two days was where the press junkets would take place. He liked it when it worked out that way. He could get a lot more sleep, which didn't happen too often on these trips.

He pulled his phone out. It had vibrated in his pocket. Secretly, Chris hoped for a message from Chelsea, but it was a friend that lived in London. A woman. A model . He sighed. He'd only been in town a day and people already knew he was there. He slept most of the day he arrived.

"You don't deserve her anyway." He whispered as he responded to the woman that lived in town. He declined the party she'd invited him to and flopped on his bed. Room service would probably be best for dinner, but he knew the director and a few of his costars wanted to go out. Allowing himself the luxury of closing his eyes, he took a power nap. Fifteen minutes later he was up and showering to go to dinner.

Chris rode the elevator to the lobby alone. In the reflection of the golden walls he adjusted his jacket and ran his fingers through his hair. He wore his glasses and looked jet-lagged, but that would change when the stylists got a hold of him tomorrow. The doors opened and he walked through the lobby, keeping his head down. Paparazzi were bad in LA, but they were much worse in London.

He stepped out to the valet stand, asking the young man working there about a cab. Quickly, the employee picked up the phone and within minutes he was riding in a cab to the restaurant. Again, he closed his eyes. Before he began to drift to sleep Chelsea's face danced its way into his thoughts. Chris could see her hugging herself, avoiding eye contact. If only he had known what to say. He sighed heavily just as the cab arrived. It was as if his itinerary had been published. Flashing lights and shouts bombarded him as he stepped out of the car.

Dinner was simple and expensive. One bottle of wine exceeded four hundred dollars, but was worth every penny. The cast, happily reunited, swapped stories about their current lives. As dessert was being presented the director leaned across the table in Chris' direction. "I don't mean to pry, I know you're a private man, but I must hear about your new girlfriend."

Chris' stomach sank. He wasn't sure what to say.

A beautiful costar beamed, "New girlfriend?" Clearly she wanted the latest gossip.

Chris forced a smile, "What do you want to know?"

The director, in complete seriousness, "Why the fuck isn't she teaching anymore? I'd pay lots of tuition to get a person like that teaching my kids. I swear, the California education system is a joke. My kids are not challenged at all and they go to some pretty phenomenal schools."

Chris felt instantaneously protective. "You have to think of what she's been through, what being around kids or in a classroom would make her feel. Certainly there is an emptiness she feels working at Disneyland, but she's happy everyday. There was a time where she tried to teach but got panic attacks. Fucking panic attacks. I know she's amazing at it, just give her time. But I can't imagine that she'd teach private. She's only taught in those schools we make cheesy movies about."

The older co-star, a well known woman, spoke softly, "Maybe you should talk to her about putting her life on screen. Write a screen play or memoir together."

The anger started in his fingertips. He clenched them into fists, but it didn't stop the anger from traveling through his veins and deep into his heart. "I would never." He said it just as he stood up. He didn't want to be there anymore. "I'm going to go back to the hotel." And we walked off. He could hear apologies and whispers, but Chris ignored them. He got his coat and went outside. A good heavy rain had started, but it didn't stop the photographers from congregating in front of the restaurant.