"Tell him," Kimberley said.

They were sitting at a picnic bench in the school courtyard during their fifteen minute break. There were rumors the school was going to get rid of that break next year and add forty minutes to the school day so they could have seven classes instead of six, but Tami would be long gone by then. Let Shelley deal with seven classes. Tami's little sister would probably love it. Then she could take basket weaving on top of the art or whatever it was she was doing next year.

It was chilly, so the courtyard wasn't as crowded as it usually was during break, except for a few smokers, who lingered against the brick wall, and who were largely ignored by the teachers. The major anti-smoking campaigns that were starting to come out had not yet hit Rankin, although the school had finally gotten rid of its student smoking lounge Tami's freshman year, driving the students outside. Tami had only touched cigarettes a couple of times herself, during her rebellious sophomore year, and she'd coughed so much at both attempts that she'd decided she would look cooler if she wasn't smoking.

"Just tell him," Kimberley repeated.

Tami had just confessed to Kimberley that she had some feelings for Eric. That seemed safer than saying, I'm head over heels in love.

"I can't tell him! He already made it clear he's not interested in me that way."

"Maybe he was lying," Kimberley said. She pulled her gloves out of her coat and slid them on.

"What do you mean, maybe he was lying?"

Kimberley shrugged. "Well what would you say, if you were a guy, and some girl you had the hots for told you point blank she didn't want to date you?"

"I didn't tell him point blank I didn't want to date him. I told him I didn't want to date anybody."

"Well," Kimberley said, "tell him you've revised your opinion."

"What if he stops being my friend?"

"Then he wasn't really your friend to begin with," Kimberley told her. "If he doesn't want to date you, it'll be awkward for a while, sure, but he'll still be your friend in the end. And he probably does have the hots for you."

Tami shook her head. "I don't know."

"Tami, have you noticed that he's still not dating anyone? It's January. It's the third quarter now. He's not still pining after his ex, because she offered to get back together and he cut it off with her. That's what you said, right?"

"Yeah," Tami admitted.

"If he's not holding out for you, what the hell is he doing? I mean, seriously - "

"- Shhh!" Tami hissed.

Jack had just walked out the side door. He spied them at the picnic table, walked over, and straddled the bench next to Kimberley. He kissed her cheek. "You said you'd meet me under the bleachers."

"Tami distracted me," Kimberley said. "I'll make it up to you after school, I promise."

"I have to work," he said.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I'll stop by. You sure are cute in that fry cook apron and that little white hat."

Jack smiled.

"Where's Eric?" Kimberley asked, and Tami shot her a warning look. Kimberley returned a sly smile.

"He went to do some extra credit for English," Jack answered, "because he got a C on that last test."

"What does he care?" Kimberley asked. "He's got a full ride to TMU. It's not like they're going to revoke it because he gets Cs his last two quarters."

Jack said, "His dad will ream him a new one if he comes home with anything less than a B in anything. And a B is borderline."

Kimberley shook her head. "Poor guy. He could use some stress relief." She looked at Tami. "He could use a good, fun time."

[*]

Tami considered telling Eric. She hoped Kimberley was right about Eric's feelings for her, but what if she wasn't?

The next time she shared lunch with Eric and Jack, she felt awkward. Jack kept smirking at her. Tami hated to think that Kimberley might have revealed her trust and told Jack how she felt. Tami didn't think Jack had told Eric, though, because Eric was acting his usual self, which is to say, he was building a tower out of French fries.

"Okay," Eric said. "Tami, see if you can remove one without the whole thing collapsing."

"What?"

"Try it," he insisted.

"Does she win a prize if she can do it?" Jack asked, looking at Tami, that wry smirk plastered to his face. "What is her prize?"

Tami wished he'd cut that out.

"Y'all should take turns, actually," Eric said. "The person who doesn't collapse it gets the prize."

"You should box and market this game," Jack told him, finally turning off his smirk.

"The French fries might get moldy though," Eric replied.

Tami pulled out a fry, ever so slowly. The structure remained.

Jack took a turn. He felt out a couple of them first, before attempting one. The fry tower instantly fell. "Yeah, never mind," Jack said. "No one would want to play this game."

"So what do I win?" Tami asked.

Eric smiled. "You get all the fries."

"Ewww!" Tami exclaimed, half laughing. "Everybody's fingers have been all over them."

[*]

The next day, after work, Tami ventured to the coffee shop. As she sat and pretended to read, she contemplated telling Eric how she felt on the walk home.

Once, he caught her looking at him, so she promptly lowered her eyes to her book. She forced herself to read, word by word, sentence by sentence.

Her heart was a nervous flutter. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to tell him? If so, she should wait until they were very near the parsonage, so she could run to safety inside if and when he told her he wasn't interested in her that way.

After managing a single page of her book, which she'd read three times now without processing the words, Tami heard a clack.

Eric had turned the sign to closed.

[*]

The freshly mopped floors of the empty coffee shopped sparkled beneath the glow of the overhead lights. The chairs nestled snugly in place on top of the tables. Tami stood near the glass door, a royal blue scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, wondering what she'd done with her gloves, and waiting for Eric to put away the mop and walk her home.

She glanced out at the cars passing intermittently by and noticed a few, large fluffy snowflakes falling from the sky and melting into nothingness the moment they hit the street. Eric's footsteps tap-tapped across the tile floor, and she turned to see him standing very nearby. He looked at her for only a second, and then he looked up, up, up to the ceiling of the coffee shop above them. Tami followed his gaze. From the rafters hung a single bunch of mistletoe.

"It's probably time to take that down," Tami told him. "I mean, it's almost February."

When she lowered her eyes from the mistletoe, she caught his. His voice was deathly serious when he said, "We better honor it."

A nervous giggle escaped her lips. Where had that laugh come from? It didn't even sound like hers. Was he serious? Did he want to kiss her? Or did he feel obligated by tradition to kiss her?

"What?" she asked, and that was when he put a hand on her hip, and leaned in, and his lips touched down on her lips, and something happened.

Tami didn't know what happened exactly, but it was a like a small, lit match had been dropped in a hidden vat of lighter fluid. Her mouth was suddenly open, and her hands were buried in his thick hair, grasping and tearing at the strands. Eric's hands were on her back and hair and neck and shoulders, roaming all over her suede jacket, and then down to her bottom, which he squeezed through her jeans. Their tongues lashed one another in an urgent dance. There was smacking and gasping and hard breathing and stumbling until somehow they hit a table and knocked a chair off of it. The loud clack of furniture against floor brought Tami to her senses, and she pulled away.

"What just happened?" she asked.

"What just happened," he said, "is that you finally decided to be my girlfriend."