.:{Imagines}:. ~ IM5

David Imagine for Sara

***

Hi Sara! I hope you like your Imagine! {{Writing this at like 3 A.M...}}

~ Alana

***

Prom wasn't your thing.

Then again, neither was shopping, or pink. But prom, prom really drew the line for you. It was a big, glorified fucking mess. There was everything and anything holding you back from going, but as usual, your overly enthusiastic mom had already gotten you a dress and had forced you to go, against your will, of course.

You sat in a corner with a few cups of lukewarm soda here and there, accompanied only by your phone. The neon lights suspended temporarily over the gym had to have been the second most annoying thing you'd ever experienced in your life, right after the god-awful choice of squeaky clean pop music, courtesy of every single preppy girl in your grade.

You rummage around in your purse for headphones when you feel someone tao your shoulder. You look up, met by a pair of big brown eyes and an innocent, handsome face.

"You're way to pretty to be sitting alone like that."

Your cheeks blaze. "I-I want to sit here," you defend. You can tell he's an upperclassman; you haven't seen him around at all.

The music suddenly makes a drastic change from uppity twerk music to a slow, romantic song; something out of a romance novel itself.

The boy holds out a hand. "If you would please dance with me, I'll make sure you don't want to sit down again."

You raised your eyebrows, tempted. He pouts, his arm still out.

"C'mon, at least tell me your name!"

You smile shyly. "It's Sara. And yours?"

"David Please-Dance-With-Me-Sara Scarzone," he teases, obviously desperate.

You laugh and stare at him for a moment, and you notice his hope wearing thin.

"Fine," you sigh. "One dance, but that's it."

His eyes animate, and he grabs your hand eagerly, but gently.

Leading you the the dance floor, he pulls you close, and you can feel his content breathing whisper across your face. His gentle touch and movement makes you unexpectedly swoon, almost against your will. He was sweet, from the looks of it. Something about him made you look past your insecurities for a fleeding moment.

He leans down to your ear, and you feel him smile.

"Please don't pull a Cinderella on me," he whispers, giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

You bite back a content squeal.

"I promise; I couldn't even if I tried."

***

I hope you liked it Sara! Short and simple!

~ Alana