i love jj

i know i said there'd be posts other than flash fiction fridays, but i did need the week to gather myself and my thoughts now that i have my life back, so the previously mentioned return to regular posting should happen this week.
in the meanwhile, i'm in love with this week's fff, so big-up jj who really thrilled me with these requirements...
Dirt.
Hurt.
Curt.
Flirt.
And an orange.
400 words exactly:
she flirted mercilessly, determined to remind herself that she was still attractive. one fool’s differing opinion did not make her less of a woman.
she wouldn’t rest until she had him – not that she’d do anything with him once her goal was achieved – it was enough to know she could still have whatever her heart (or loins) desired.
she’d fixed her eyes on him, knowing he had to look – her gaze was too direct to go unnoticed, even to someone mostly plastered – not that he was, or he’d have been no sport at all. she didn’t need the charity of some drunk’s beer goggles. never had. she’d probably be hurt by the suggestion that she might have benefitted from such figuratively-rose-tinted lenses, even once.
she’d waited patiently for him to feel her watching, and look up.
next, she’d smiled and crooked her finger at him in that universal gesture of ‘come hither’.
when he’d glanced over his shoulder, confused, searching for the person she was beckoning, she spoke.
whispered, actually,
“you. come.”
and that time it was unmistakeable, even to her slightly bewildered prey.
he’d hesitantly slid over, immediately confirming tentative hopes.
“you mean me?”
“yes.”
almost curt, so he’d know she certainly meant himself, but warm enough that he wasn’t scared to stay.
her game was on. she played with the joy of someone denied a simple pleasure for too long, for no good reason. she felt the strain melting away as she indulged in what felt like her first real conversation in forever.
by the end of the night the hurt was gone, now just a distant memory as he walked her out to her car. they said their goodnights, which she knew were goodbyes, regardless of the exchange of digits – by this time tomorrow it’d be a new life, and she planned to never revisit this place on her travels.
as she turned away her bagstrap caught his lingering arm, opening wide enough to spill most of its contents.
she laughed – these items scattered in the dirt were meaningless now – identification, keys, and the one item that caught his eye and made him smile with her.
he stooped and collected them, inventorying as he handed each item over individually so that he could touch her hand each time.
he smiled again at the last one, brushed it off gently, and handed it to her.
“…and an orange.”

walk good.