The prompt song this week was:
The Break Up Song - by Greg Kihn Band
Steve liked drama, it was his life blood. If he couldn’t
make a scene and get everyone’s attention, what was the point? It didn’t have
to be bad drama, it could be good drama too – he didn’t care as long as
everyone was looking.
But she’d stolen his limelight and he wasn’t impressed. It
was his night; Friday’s were always his night, everyone knew that. While he
stood there at the edge of the dancefloor he expected his ring of sycophants to
be focused on him, but they weren’t, they were looking at her. He didn’t like
it. Not one bit.
Everyone knew Chelsea
liked to dance, she always had, and Steve had to relent to the fact that she
had a body worth watching, but he didn’t like her doing this to him. He put it
down to her being upset over his rejection of her the other week, when she’d
sidled up to him and wanted him to take her home. He wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t
going to get involved with that – no way. Her rep didn’t match his. Everyone
knew what she was like; she got about WAY too much. He couldn’t be seen to be
with her.
But there she was, showing off all her assets, and all the
boys were loving it. He had to find a way to work this to his advantage. He had
to find a way to win back their attention, maybe even get them giving him a pat
on the back.
He thought about joining her up there on the podium, but he
might end up embarrassing himself and he couldn’t risk that, so what was he
left with? He eyed the other lads in the
club, maybe there was someone he could pick a fight with, bring the attention
back to him – maybe even bring Chelsea
running to him. He liked the idea, but
there was no one in tonight he felt the urge to go to that much trouble over.
Then the music changed and the lights dimmed, and he smiled.
He saw her climb down off the podium and head straight for him. He didn’t have
to do anything. And they all watched her too – exactly what he wanted.
She stood there looking at him, slightly out of breath. He
could see a sheen of perspiration on her face.
“Well, how about it Steve? Will you dance with me?” She
shouted over the music.
He hesitated, giving the anticipation a chance to build, get
those close by hanging for his response. His words would have to be good; he
had to impress.
He let out a laugh and sneered at her. “I don’t think so Chelsea, I ain’t desperate
enough for your used piece of meat.”
He smiled round at the others, enjoying the mix of winces
and laughs they displayed. But then it came, something he hadn’t been
expecting, that wasn’t part of his plan. She slapped him.
It was hard too, everyone heard the crack. His head whipped
to the side so fast he knew his neck was gonna hurt later. He could feel the
handprint where she’d struck him grow hot too.
He spun back, his eyes filled with rage at the humiliation
this was causing him, but she wasn’t finished. She spat at him too and stormed
off.
As he wiped it off with the cuff of his sleeve he could see
the partially hidden sniggers, the hands raised to lips to cover the smiles.
She’s ruined his Friday night.
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