He felt his blood rushing in his veins

He watched her raise her eyebrow at some random guy passing their table. She gave him a vague smile as she lifted the cigarette to her lips.
- Do you have to flirt with everybody? He regretted his question as soon as it had made its way over his lips.
- Why do you care? she asked.
A fair question. Why did he care, really. She was not his girlfriend, never would she probably be. That time was long gone.
- I don't know. I just don't like it.
- You should know me better. She sounded tired. - Flirting is what comes naturally for me. It's like a hobby. I kinda like it.
Yes, that he knew. He kinda had liked it as well when they first met. He still remembered how he had reacted to her smile that night. She kept turning half way towards him, playing with the straw from her drink, watching him like it would be against the law, carefully, so that no-one noticed, just him. Oh my God! He remembered the blood rushing in his veins! And he hated the thought of her making someone else feel the same! She had no right.

- Somebody could call you a slut for flirting with everyone passing by. Again he regretted his words as they came out. Why couldn't he just shut up?
He saw her eyes turn black. She was mad.
She looked at him, first without saying a word. Inhaling the smoke and slowly blowing it straight into his face she replied without any anger in her voice.
- I have slept with two men in my life. At 32 years you could hardly call that being a slut. She put out the cigarette and picked up her bag from the floor.
- Both men whom I loved, even though I sometimes struggle with knowing why.
He saw tears in her eyes. He had once again managed to make her sad. Without the intention. He just felt so hurt inside! It still hurt him that he'd lost her. It still hurt him that she now seemed to be too far away to ever come back.

He saw her walk away from the table and leaving the restaurant. He had failed to say goodbye. He had failed to say anything right.
Why? Why did he continuously push her away when everything he wanted was to put his arms around her and hold her close? He had no idea, Even his theraphist had suggested he didn't even want her back, that he was clinging to her for some other reason.
Of course not! That was a stupid thought to begin with!
He let his head fall into his hands and sighed. Calling her a slut! That was like offering peace, wasn't it? What an imbecile he was!

- Is this taken?
He heard a silent voice and as he lifted his gaze he saw a hand resting on the back of the chair next to him.
- Please, go ahead, it's not taken. He saw the red, polished nails and a hint of sweet perfume found its way to his nostrils. What was that scent? Sweet, yet so spicy ... His eyes started to climb the hand and the arm it was attached to. Red silk, so soft. The chin, the lips - red as well - the pointy nose, a set of blue eyes that looked like small lakes, sparkling from the moonlight.
She smiled and tilted her head a bit, just enough to set free a dark brown curl from her ponytail.

He felt his blood rushing in his veins.