.:{Imagines}:. ~ IM5

David Imagine for Anon

***

Hello lovely! I hope you enjoy your Imagine!

~ Alana

***

"I don't dance," you declare for the thousandth time. You admit, it was hard saying no to David. But, as his girlfriend, he always seemed to expectp you to help him out with everything. Everything.

Today's everything happened to be the thing that you were worst at: dancing. His dance partner had failed to show up due to surgery, and David had been badgering you to attend his class in her place for hours last night. You'd though hard about it, coming to the conclusion that it was a one-way ticket to embarassment and that you would never do it, but something about his passion for dance and the way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about a new routine was enough to convince you. Sure, being his partner meant that you would have to be the center of attention and potentially fail in front of talented students that were younger than you, but it was for the most important boy of your life.

Plus, it couldn't be that bad.

***

You'd been to David's studio before just to visit him for moral support, but you'd never taken any lessons from him.

You walk in, surprised to see only David there.

"Hey babe," you call out as you walk in. You set down your bag on a bench. "Where is everybody?"

He gives you a quick kiss and fumbles with the remote for the sound system. "This is their day off. This is when the partner," he points to you, and the teacher", he points to himself, "practice te routine.

You smile. This would probably run much smoother now that you knew no one would be here to see you fail. "Alright!" you chirp. "Let's start."

***

Hands down disaster. You might have been born with two left feet or something, but nevertheless, not even Micheal Jackson could have taught you how to dance.

You folded your arms after a while, pouting.

"This isn't working," you mutter.

He takes your hands, unfolding your arms. "It's okay, princess. Just relax and follow me." He counts off and watches you intently in the mirror trying to

mirror every move. It's not quite that you're a horrible dancer, but that you're too forgetful to function.

He stops the music, actually looking frustrated now. He opens his mouth to say something, but can only manage a helpless look.

Your face crumbles. "I'm sorry!" you wail. "I told you I couldn't dance." You pout and heave yourself up onto a ledge jutted out from the wall, kicking out your feet and starint scornfully at the boombox. "I'm unteachable; please remember that," you remind.

David walks over to you, staring up as you sit on the ledge, your nose stuck in the air stubbornly.

"Even though you suck at dancing," he teases, "you're still perfect, to me. Don't forget that."

You bite back a smile. "So does this mean that I can't help you anymore?" You fake disappointment.

He raises an eyebrow. "I think you need to take my class before you teach it, babygirl."

***

I hope you enjoyed thisssss!

~ Alana