The music was throbbing, lights flashing in sequence.
'I'm telling you, she likes you,' Mike shouted, raising his pint to his lips.
'I don't even like me,' Richie shouted back, 'there's no way she does.'
From across the dance floor a young woman glanced over at them.
'Go on, ask her to dance.'
'She'll say no.'
'You won't know unless you ask! Go on, you wuss.'
'Sod it. I'll be back in ten seconds.'
He tapped her bare shoulder.
'Do you want to dance?'
'Only with your mate.' She looked past him.
His shoulders slumped. 'Come on, I'll introduce you.'
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.
Almost missed the regular Saturday slot; made it just in time!