Tony shuddered when the tinkling started. He sat in a sparsely populated corner of the hall, far from the head table, closer to the keg, drinking beer out of a plastic cup. As the tinkling grew in volume, Tony kept his eyes on the wet rings his cup had made in the paper tablecloth. A cheer arose. He knew she was kissing him, and the thought ate him alive. It’s your own damn fault, he told himself. You had your chance to speak. What is there to do now?
After a minute, he got up and headed for the door.
I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #342 at Velvet Verbosity.
Oooh… poor guy. >_<