Not Your Type (Chris Pine FanFic)

Prologue

A bright light beat mercilessly on the stage.  “This is the last one,” Chelsea whispered.

“Excuse me?” a well dressed woman with a headset in her ear turned and faced her.  Chelsea merely shook her head.  The stage hand was not the woman that needed to hear her statement. Confidence flooded her veins; she needed to talk to her boss. Now. Once she was done speaking to this auditorium full of teachers to be she would quit. There wasn’t much here for her anymore anyway.  It had been months since she had graced a classroom with her presence.  Her friends walked on eggshells around her.  Drew offered to let her move to California. It was time to start over.   She stood up a little straighter and took a deep breath. 

“Put your hands together for an American hero, Mrs. Chelsea Garcia!”

This is it, I will not do this anymore, she thought as she walked out on to the stage.  It is time for a change.

***

A pulsating beat caused Chris’ chest to vibrate and his foot to tap.  He was stuck in the VIP area, but he wanted to dance.   Sometimes he felt like a twenty-something stuck in an older body.  He glanced around the club, enjoying the view.  Beautiful bodies were bouncing and grinding.  His eyes slid from person to person before locking on the woman in the VIP area with him.  She was tall and beautiful and just like every other woman he’d dated recently.  Chris finished his drink, but didn’t move his eyes from her.  This should be easy, he thought as he stood.  The alcohol was taking its toll, a confidence stronger than normal overcame him.  He swaggered to the woman.

“Hello,” he practically growled.

She danced a finger on this collar, “I know you.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Do you?”

She finished her drink.  He bought her another.  They danced tightly pressed against each other.  It wasn’t what Chris wanted, but he would settle for this tonight.  Then she pressed her lips into his.  She kissed him and she kissed him good.  He put his hands into her hair, not caring about who saw.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” a male voice asked as the kiss broke.

There was flashbulb and a fist flew.   Then he noticed the rings.  She’s married. He sat down and turned away from the camera phones, attempting to play it cool.   Get your shit together, Chris. He told himself, It’s time to get your shit together.  The crowd dissipated and Chris sighed.  He’d lucked out.