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Moving like a willow tree in a particularly violent wind, the mosh pit undulated and mixed people like no other. Jora Stephens and Derrick Grane were, of course, right in the middle; sweat being flung from their hair and ends of their fingers.

Now, the two of them had met in school, had a couple classes together and knew each other very vaguely. However, this does not mean that either knew they would be at this concert tonight. The band playing was heavy, but high energy; neither of the pair knew that the other liked said music. If they had, this situation would not be occurring, and the two of them would likely be moshing together with hands held, and making out during the love songs.

As the next song progressed, both Jora and Derrick had been crowd surfing and came dangerously close together; their bodies had clashed when the crowd wanted amusement. The two had been brought together by semi malicious intent but had laughed anyway and continued their jumping dance; the closest they had ever been.

Despite the laughter, both their minds were working furiously; Derrick was a guy, and as most guys are or will be, lonely for female attention. This led him to believe their being mashed together by the crowd was a hopeful sign. Jora, on the other hand, was somewhat shy and was wondering the distinct possibility of what to do if Derrick asked her out. Of course, Derrick was too nervous to do anything about the situation, and Jora had not eaten for hours and didn’t think much of the encounter.

The moshing wound down as the intermission came up, people filtering into the washrooms and beer garden. Since she had not eaten, Jora slumped on one of the short arena walls, stomach angrily rambling at her for attention. Derrick, returning from a washroom visit, saw her easily and decided to take a simple chance.

“Hey,” Derrick sat down beside her, “Jora, from school, right?” He peered over at her and she barely nodded, lowering her head onto one of her knees. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, gripping her stomach none the less. Her purse was at home, as was her wallet, so the concession was definitely not on option. She curled her legs up tighter and turned to face Derrick, “What about you?”

“I’m a little sweaty,” he said, smiling and brushing some stringy hair out of his eyes, “the pit is fuckin’ intense tonight. And did you see the bassist? He was all over the stage!” His hands were waving back and forth; some expression of a body and an instrument moving at a run.

Jora only murmured a response, and her body responded in what one might describe as surrender. Through lucky circumstance, she surrendered in Derrick’s direction, coming to a hard stop on his shoulder. She sighed heavily, and in her currently dopey state, didn’t think anything when he recoiled from her.

“Jora…” Derrick tried to call her attention to him, “Can you, um-” Jora’s hand, given a burst of energy, had found its way off her stomach. She smothered his whole face with her palm and he stopped talking to laugh, pulling it off and putting it on her lap.

“D’you have any food?” Jora mumbled plainly, her eyes fumbling upwards towards Derrick. She smiled weakly at him; almost apologetic.

Derrick stopped laughing immediately and back at her, his eyes weren’t wrinkled at the edges from laughter, but he managed to keep smiling.

And now we step back. Derrick is not tired and his mind is racing with adrenaline brought on by the moshing chance meeting with Jora. Jora might as well be drunk, for her ability to reason or resist are close to that of a sapling against a chainsaw.

The pair was sitting against the arena’s wall as the intermission moved around them. The number of empty or partially empty beer glasses had doubled; red plastic all over the smooth concrete floor. Jora and Derrick didn’t notice this fact; they were too busy staring at one another.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything to eat,” Derrick now looking apologetic, “I can get you a hot dog or something.”

Jora nodded and pulled herself off him; head back on her knees and hands around her stomach. Its complaints were quiet for a moment, her mind wandered to, what else but Derrick Grane. He was going to go and spend his money on her well being. His money being spent on her

It had to mean something.

Jora Stephens, despite being relatively attractive and well proportioned, never thought she would even have a chance to get a boyfriend in high school. Too shy to even say a word in a chemistry lab, she was normally relegated into a role by everyone else. Managing to surprise herself, she bought an extra ticket for this concert with her older sister. She had felt nervous in line, getting the ticket and especially when getting into the large arena. They had checked her pockets and asked her is she had hidden anything in her brazier.

She hadn’t, but her sister had snuck a small flask of vodka in using her cleavage and offered some to Jora. She refused, but regretted it, even the small amount of liquid wouldn’t have left her this hungry. 'But then Derrick wouldn’t be getting me food,' her mind reasoned, 'I might even get a grad date out of this.'

“Hey,” the voice broke Jora from her thoughts, jumping despite her lack of energy, “I didn’t know what you wanted on it, so I left it plain.”

The hot dog stared Jora down; the hand and voice offering it were obviously Derrick’s. She was almost too nervous to take it; What if I touch his hand ad he doesn’t like it? Hunger and urge won over, grabbing the bread-wrapped meat and tearing off a large chunk with her incisors.

To say that she ate it with fervor would be an insult to her now apparent ability to cram food in her mouth. Voracious was closer, but still wasn’t right. Derrick would have been repulsed if he hadn’t expected her to eat like a maniac. Of course, Jora didn’t realize that such an amount of food, all hitting her stomach at once, would end up causing more problems.

That is to say, after getting up and kissing Derrick on the cheek for getting her the food, she promptly threw up.

None of the concert security or other staff had noticed her plight, so Derrick was stuck trying to comfort her. She had puked up the entire hot dog in a mostly undigested form and was continuing to cough up small bits of fluid. Jora was happy that she no longer felt hungry, but was less happy to be feeling her stomach attempting to flip inside out.

“At least you didn’t get my shirt,” Derrick offered, kneeling beside her. Jora managed to smile while coughing and her hacks became less violent. She fell back against the arena wall once again and wiped her mouth, still smiling.

“Yeah, would’ve been worse if I had puked right as I kissed you!”

The pair laughed and continued laughing as the lights went down; the concert was starting again. Derrick stood and pulled Jora up with him using one hand. She wobbled a little but shrugged it off by smiling again.

The crowd screamed as the band walked back onto the stage, just as Jora and Derrick were walking off of the arena floor. Now, explaining the details of Jora’s washroom visit would be boring; consisting of washing out the remaining vomit from her mouth and splashing her face with water. That was boring, wasn’t it?

Despite it being the moshing that brought them together at the start, they were now out of the pit and wandering downtown. The night should have been cold, but the dark overhead clouds were managing to keep whatever warmth was left. They passed buildings, car lots and a couple parks, but just kept walking. Neither had said a word since they left the arena and, in Jora’s mind, were holding hands on accident. Not to say it was a bad accident.

Derrick just assumed that Jora had taken his hand and really didn’t mind. Despite it being out of his pockets, it was warm, so he remained more than happy. His other rested in its rightful pocket; content to thumb his pocket knife and stay equally warm.

“So,” Jora chuckled, “what will we tell people, that we met in a mosh pit and under a hot dog?”

“Sounds like a good story,” Derrick laughed and so did Jora, both consummating their affection through that sound, “speaking of hot dogs, aren’t you hungry?”

“I could use another, but I’m not sure if another hot dog will ever feel the same.”

Still laughing, they took a left at the next light and started wandering to the closest Starbucks to get coffee and whatever overly sweet food they could get their wallets around. The crossed another street; eager to eat and drink, they didn’t pay attention to the lights. The traffic was light or non existent, so they made nothing of the flashing “don’t walk” sign.

The sad fact of ignoring the obvious didn’t get them here, they didn’t ignore their feelings. But they ignored the less than dulcet roar of the modified Honda’s engine as it approached, assuming it would stop for them or wasn’t coming in their direction. Derrick’s pocketed hand left its haven and the pocket knife left as well, falling to the ground. Jora walked on just far enough to watch Derrick reach for the knife and get hit by the aforementioned Honda.