Oh What A Night

Mark greeted me with a bear hug and a giant smile, he was thrilled about winning their first game just like everyone else. When he released me he managed to herd the mass of people out of the building and down the street to a club like restaurant that I didn't know was so close to the school. As we were being seated I understood why the girls had gone out eating before the game, they didn't want to look like gluttons in front of the guys, and retain their feminine appeals. I mentally laughed at the thought. But the mental hilarity was cut off when I found myself stuck between Jonathan and Mark on one side of the humongous booth, while Jace, Clary, and Isabelle were seated directly across from us. I wasn't going to catch a break tonight, I could just tell.

"Do you want anything, Mira?" Mark asked as the overwhelmed waiter came back to take orders. I pitied the poor guy for having to deal with such a mob.

"Anything carbonated." I replied and he turned to the waiter with the rest of the yelling teens.

"Hey staff!" Jonathan called over the crowd and the whole table went silent. "Throw this out for me." He said tossing the baggy at the guy. He just barely caught the now completely melted bag of ice, and kept it from popping like a water-balloon on himself. Several of the hockey players laughed as the poor worker walked off to fetch the orders and to discard Jonathan's ice-pack.

I peeked down at his hand that sat in the small gap between us and it was still an ugly purple-ish blue color and swollen. I was gripping the provide glass of ice water making my already cold hands even colder to the point where they were almost numb. Jonathan had to get the swelling down to help his hand heal. I don't know what possessed me to make such a secretive yet bold move, but I did it and didn't even look at Jonathan. I took my left hand off my glass of water and put it on the back of his right. I could feel his glare as I waited for him to pull his hand away, but he didn't. His skin was heated, not the least bit chilled by the ice pack he had just been keeping on it. It was also smooth, but I'd imagine the pads of his hands were rough and callused from playing hockey and fighting.

"So what did you think of the game?" Mark asked turning back to me. His smile was still in place and he was clearly pleased with his team.

"It was much more exciting than I imagined. I'd have to say I enjoyed myself." As I spoke I moved my hand across Jonathan's so it was over the main swollen area: his knuckles. My palm laid flat against the back of his hand and my fingers fit easily in the gaps between each knuckle, my pinkie touching his thumb. Maybe this would mean something if we were a couple, or if he even liked me, but we're not, and he doesn't. This is just me doing something without asking to try and help another person . . . Then again I don't know if I would do this for anyone else. Jonathan just has an unknown habit of making me worry.

"You thought hockey would be dull?" Mark laughed. I half smiled in response. "Glad we were able to change your view."

"Hey hey hey! Mira!" It was Zeke waving his bandaged hand above his head to get my attention.

"What?" I huffed acknowledging him.

"Wasn't I cool? Glad I made you come, huh?" He said smugly.

"About as cool as a duck." Jonathan muttered under his breath and I couldn't stop the giggle that escaped me. I got weird looks from both Jonathan and Zeke, while Mark continued his happy smiling.

"By the way, great goal Morgenstern." Mark said looking to Jonathan who finally smirked.

"Only natural." He replied arrogantly.

"Yeah but you had to break a guy's ribs to do it." Jace piped in. His arm was wrapped around Clary in a possessive manner, and his golden eyes were firmly fixed with a glare for Jonathan.

"At least I made a goal, Lightwood." Jonathan spat back.

"That's because I'm a team player!" Jace returned fire, and Clary tightened her arm that was wrapped across his chest.

Before Jonathan could make a retort I, without thinking, smoothed my thumb along the side of his hand, in a sort of "calm down" gesture. I think it took Jonathan off guard because his words were halted as he peered sideways at me for only a moment. I was watching him out of the corner of my eye, something in me wouldn't allow me to fully face him, as he clenched his teeth and leered across the table.

"Annoying fucker." Was his reply as he leaned against the back of the booth.

I felt like this was an improvement to all his other verbal fights with Jace, so like a well-mannered puppy I patted him, well sort of. We were in public and that would have looked really weird, and I'm fairly sure he would have knocked me out cold if I did. So instead I ran my thumb along the side of his hand twice. It was so clear the temperature difference between our hands, mine like ice and his like fire.

I almost jumped out of my seat when I felt his thumb move along my pinkie, as if in response. I wanted to stare at him wide eyed, but that thing or feeling inside me would not let me. I think I blushed, but I wasn't sure since my face was so hot, so probably, yeah.

Was this really Jonathan? The guy that curses and yells at me on a regular basis? I screamed inside my head. It just didn't feel like reality. And I think I was happy about it.

". . .ir . . . ? Hey Mira?"

"Huh?" I said turning to face Mark. I had been so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even notice he was calling me.

"You okay? You look a little flushed." He said and suddenly his face was too close to me. I leaned as far away as I could without touching Jonathan anymore than I already was.

"I'm fine. It's just really warm in here." I lied and he moved back.

"Oh, yeah." He chuckled as his cheeks turned a light pink color. "I would just feel bad if you got sick when I kind of dragged you along." He explained kindly. His expression was cute, I could understand why girls liked Mark Blackthorn so much. He was always kind and his mismatched eyes were pretty charming how it always felt like two people were looking at you at once with the same emotion. I guess most girls would swoon at that feeling, but I don't think I'm the swooning type. I lack the delicate sweetness of being a girl.

"You're unneeded trash. Get out!"

I shook my head. The echoing voice faded with the loud chatting of the hockey victory party. My heart had sped up at the remembering of such an unwanted memory. I couldn't remember the last time I had thought about the past, three - four months ago? It's been a while, and I'm fine with not remembering.

"That goddamn bitch just had to have you! Ruined my life."

I leaned my right elbow on the table and pressed my forehead into the palm. For a moment my head swam, and I just wanted someone in the present to talk to me, to distract me.

"That fucking bastard blames me for having you! Well who do you think knocked me up? Stop looking at me like that you little-

The voice stopped, no echoing finish just stopped when Jonathan trailed his thumb along my pinkie. My heart calmed and I almost looked at him, but instead I answered back with smoothing my thumb along his hand. He did it again and I responded. I removed my head from my hand and managed to sit up properly. My mind no longer swam with horrid flashbacks and I was lucky that Mark hadn't notice, he was talking to someone on the other side of the table.

That happened many times while we hung out, we never spoke to one another, but one would sooth the other's hand and the other were respond. It continued even after my hand had become warm and the swelling in his hand had gone down. Mark kept up a steady steam of topics with me when he thought I was getting bored, but in fact I was enjoying myself even when I wasn't talking. At one point Sebastian made a joke that "the girl too cool to smile was laughing" and I was laughing. Eric had shot soda out his nose and was complaining like a baby, who wouldn't laugh?

It was getting late and a few of the girls had started leaving or were over by the modern jukebox dancing. I was smiling down at the hand in my lap listening to Jonathan tell a story of when Zeke wiped out in practice, it was funny and Zeke was muttering "Shut up." repeatedly under his breath. Then suddenly my left ankle was in pain. Something collided with it on both sides sandwiching my joint between two strong forces.

"Damnit." I hissed banging my knee on the table as I pulled my leg up away from another collision.

"What happened?" Mark asked startled.

I had to pull my hand off of Jonathan's so I could roll up my pant leg to access the damage, and the moment I did my hand no longer felt warm but once again ice cold. I pushed the lonely thought away as I stared at the gash that appeared just above the inside of my ankle.

"Something hit me." I replied honestly as I grabbed napkins off the table and pressed them to the bleeding wound. It stung like hell.

There was snickering across the table and a sense of dread fell upon me. Peering out from under my lashes I saw Clary and Isabelle whispering to one another, Clary's green eyes looking right at me. This was their revenge because of earlier? How pathetic. Did they think I wasn't going to say anything? I'm the kind of person that doesn't care if I'm hated by the "in-crowd." I don't care for the in crowd.

"That's bad." Mark said looking down at the red smeared napkins. "Someone ask if this place has a first-aid kit." He called down to someone who could easily get out of the packed booth.

I tilted my leg across my lap to see if the other side was any worse, and thankfully it wasn't. It was skinned and splotchy red, but not nearly as bad as the other side.

"What could have hit you?" Mark inquired mostly to himself.

"More like who." I hissed between my teeth.

"What?" Mark raised a brow.

"I need to get out of here. EVERYONE UP." I ordered down the line of people on Jonathan's, it was shorter and I needed to get to the bathroom to clean the gash. I still couldn't look directly at Jonathan himself, but I knew he would be glaring at me for giving him an order.

People had stared moving when Clary let out another laugh. I stopped my scooching down the vinyl booth to glare at her and Isabelle. "Is this seriously funny to you morons?" I yelled keeping my hand on the napkins to the wound though from the amount of blood they probably would have just stuck there like toilet paper to a shaving cut.

They stopped laughing and smirked at me. "What are you talking about?" Isabelle asked innocently.

"Don't start with me. If you want a fight say it to my face instead of sneak attacks!" I yelled feeling my face grow hot. I was pissed.

"What's-" Mark started to say but I was yanked out of the booth so fast that I didn't have the chance to hear the rest.

"Here's the kit, so go." Jonathan said shoving the red plastic box with a white cross into my hands.

"Uh," I stumbled for words as I looked from him to the concocting demons. "Thanks." I grumbled then stomped off towards the sign that said restroom.

I was the only one in the bathroom so I took my time cleaning and bandaging the wound, muttering hate-filled curses to the two that caused it. I tested the bandaging by moving my ankle and it was sore, walking was going to be a pain in the ass. When I finally left the bathroom I found an employee to hand the red plastic kit over to before heading towards the booth to grab my backpack and leave. I didn't need harassment from a freckled face monster and her gossip queen.

"Hey moron!" Called a voice from the side exit. I turned, used to hearing the greeting come from that voice, to see Jonathan leaning against the wall with my backpack at his feet. I walked over to him with a brow raised. Completely confused with what was going on. "Leaving right?" He questioned flatly.

"Yeah." I replied slowly.

"So what did you do to piss them off?" He asked opening the door. The nighttime breeze was freezing as it whooshed in while I grabbed my bag from the floor.

"I don't know. Have I made you angry today?" I replied as I followed him out the door.

He stared down at me like I was crazy. "Not particularly." He said in his teasing way.

"Then, I really have no idea." I muttered as we started down the road.

Jonathan raised his arm at an approaching taxi, but it didn't stop and he swore at the driver. "What does it have to do with me?"

"Doesn't everything?" I said sarcastically out of reflex. I mentally kicked myself for it when we were probably having our first actual conversation since we met each other.

"It does." He smirked. "But how does this incident tie to me?" He raised his arm again at another taxi and again it zoomed by.

"Clary hates me for yelling at you, I guess is the way to put it, but in reality I don't actually know." I answered as another yellow cab came our way. This time I joined Jonathan in flagging it down, and this time it stopped. "How's your hand?" I asked as we climbed inside.

Jonathan gave the cabby the address to the loft before answering, "Not broken."

He was sitting on my left again and his hand was between us. From the lights of the city outside I could see that the dark color had faded some but his knuckles were gonna be badly bruised for a while. I turned my gaze out my window as I put my once again cold hand on top of his saying, "Next time you should just rip his arm off and use that as your stick."

"I've considered it many times, but the refs aren't fond of a bloody rink." He replied humorlessly. But I didn't care about his response, I was too pleased that he didn't pull his hand away.

Review PLEASE. For those of you who have been wanting NGT I'm getting back to it this week. I was just really focused on these last chapter cause they were the main reason I wanted to write this story. Anyway hoped you like, pleases review I need feedback.