Shawn Mendes Imagines

First Date

i have officially become inactive someone stop me

***

"So, where are we going?" you say awkwardly, followed by a laugh after he opens up the passenger side door for you with a cheesy grin that gave you butterflies.

"We," Shawn says, his eyebrows raising in delight at the word of choice, "are going to a bar."

"How romantic," you sneer.

He closed your door and circled the car around the front, climbing in on the other side and firing up the engine.

"It's not just any bar," he says matter-of-factly. "I wouldn't take you to an average bar on our first venture as a couple, don't be so ridiculous, Y/N."

"Excuse me," you bite your lip and suppress a laugh. "So what type of bar is it then?"

He glanced at you before switching the car to reverse and backing out of your driveway, starting down the street.

"It's a surprise," he says, nodding.

"Please don't tell me it's a drag queen bar or something."

He shakes his head, chuckling. "No, no, not tonight. Although, if you see one of those in this town, let me know. If this goes well, I'm gonna need second-date ideas."

You roll your eyes, ignoring the warm, tingly feeling rushing through your veins at the sound of his voice. You felt as if you were going to regurgitate all over the car floor-- or worse.

You curiously gaze out the window as you head into the city, passing lampposts and shops and underways. You didn't come out as often as you should, but it felt even more magical with him by your side.

He drives for a while longer until pulling to the side of the road, next to a few other parked cars. He turns to you, smirking as he exits the vehicle and walks back around to open your door for you yet again.

His brown eyes glimmering in the reflection of the twinkling lights, he offers his hand and says, "ready, madam?"

You felt as if you were melting on the inside at the charm of his words, and the electric ping of his touch as you took his hand. You wanted to scream, but went for a smile instead that crept upon your face without warning.

You crossed the street to the sidewalk and walked along the road, until you reached a tall, lean building lined with pink and green glowing lights, muffled music blaring from the inside.

Shawn holds the door open for you, following you inside. The first thing you notice is the volume, and the crowded, sweaty atmosphere that made you want to bolt for the door. It seemed like a normal bar at first-- drinks in the back, a few tables here and there, mosh pit in the middle, unknown band playing on the stage, the like.

Except, the band on the stage was not unknown. In fact, they weren't even a band. They wouldn't even be classified as performers.

They were just people, normal people. People from your school, you'd noted-- gripping septet are microphones with their fingers as they belted out off-key notes to their favorite pop song, laughing with each other to overcome their nerves.

"Shawn," you yell over the music, and he turns to face you, his cheeks flushing in triumph.

"A karaoke bar?"

He smiles, snaking his arm around your waist and tugging you towards one of the triangular tables, which had no chairs, but he managed to locate some from another vacant table.

He pulls out your chair for you, then eases into the seat across from you and rests his elbows on the edge. Your hands were adjacent in the middle, so close to touching-- if one of you would move slightly.

"I didn't tell you," he says, looking down, before his gaze narrows on the curves of your tight black top, "but you look really nice tonight."

You blush. "Thank you."

"Should I get us some drinks?" he asks, looking around for a waiter, which was difficult in the jam-packed, crammed area.

You talked for a while, discussing some of your favorite music artists and singing along to very few of the songs that were being performed, bonding over a plate of fries and vodka.

All of a sudden, a tall, bald man steps onto the stage with his own microphone in hand, and says, "good evening everyone!"

Your conversation slowed to a halt as you averted your eyes to the man, who continued, "it's almost time for the hand-picked performance of the night!"

The crowd whooped and pumped their fists in the air at that statement, and you and Shawn exchange a confused glance. You had no idea what that meant.

"Our staff will go out into the audience and pick two very lucky guests to come onstage and perform a nineties favorite, Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden," the man adds, his cruel smile visible from where you sit.

"I think it's time to go," Shawn mouths to you, and you nod, relieved.

He presses his fingers to the small of your back as he leads you towards the door, and you jump slightly at his touch-- so electrifying, so tingly, it nearly sent you over the edge.

"Woah, hey, wait," a voice from the stage says suddenly, and you freeze. "We've got two right here trying to bail on us before the fun even begins!"

Oh god.

A spotlight casts upon the two of you, several feet from the door, but you could probably make it if you darted. Every eye on you, you feel Shawn's hand grip yours and squeeze.

"Hold off on the search," he says slyly, "I think I've made my pick."

"No, no, no," Shawn shakes his head, hoping to ease the situation by making something up-- we had to be somewhere, someone was dying, we don't know the song?

"Don't be shy," the bald man says into the microphone, "come sing for us!"

Just then, the entire crowd began to chant, "Do-it! Do-it!", and you could feel the tangible nausea biting at your gut.

Shawn turns to you, the gleam of the light upon both of you making him glow, and shrugs. "I can kinda sing," he whispers.

"I can't," you shake your head quickly, but the chants were hard to ignore.

"Most of these people are drunk anyway, maybe it won't be so bad to just have a little fun," he points out, his clammy palm still against yours. "Come on, Y/N, we need a good first date story!"

You consider, your eyes darting from the annoying bald man to the insisting grins of the dancing strangers in the pit, then back to Shawn.

"Um," you sink your teeth into your lip. "Okay?"

Shawn beams, his face turning red as he excitedly leads you to the stage, still hand-in-hand.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen!" the man says into his microphone, walking towards the stairs. "Get ready to be blown away!"

"This could be our song," Shawn says as soon as you step onto the stage, looking down and smiling, making his way towards the left microphone stand.

You roll your eyes. "Perhaps it could."

***