My grilled cheese sandwiches hit the spot. The snowfall had morphed into more of a slushy rain. It pinged the metal roof like millions of tiny tapping fingernails. Just like we'd always done when we were younger, and I'd sat in on the Harris family weekends, always feeling like I belonged, we moved the couch to use as a backrest. Tate and I leaned against it and stretched our legs out toward the fire. I slipped off my shoes and socks to feel the full glory of the fire. My feet were warmed instantly.

Tate laughed. I looked over at him. The wavering flames illuminated his handsome face in such a way that he looked as if he was part of a picture instead of sitting, live and warm, next to me. "Do you want to let me in on the little joke, or is it private?" I asked.

His dimples, the creases that I knew by heart, appeared. He faced me. "I was just thinking about that time when the cross country coach had us running to the top of Bartman's Ridge--"

"And it started pouring. No, hailing. I still remember chugging up that damn winding road being pelted with sharp nuggets of ice. That was tough."

He smiled. "I remember reaching the top and waiting under the crappy little overhang on the side of the forest ranger building. You came up around that last curve looking about as cold and wet as a kitten lost in a storm."

"I remember shaking so hard I bit my darn tongue twice. At least three of the girls I was running with had broken down in sobs and sat on the side of the road to wait for the coach to pick them up."

"But not Jamie, the Flash, Young." I hadn't heard my cross country nickname in a long time and hearing it coming from Tate made me smile. He looked at me, and for the first time, it seemed, Tate Harris was seeing me not as the shy teenager but as a woman.

He reached up to move a strand of hair off my face, and I held my breath. But he decided against it and lowered his hand. "You looked so fragile, so cold and yet you trudged up that fucking mountain road like an Olympian." He grew quiet and turned his attention back to the fireplace. "You don't know how badly I wanted to take you into my arms to warm you."

His words faded behind the loud crackles and pops of the fire, but I was sure I'd heard them. And I was floored. But I didn't really know how to respond. In my eyes, I'd been just another girl admiring Tate Harris from afar, only with the nice advantage of being best friends with his sister. There were times when I'd even wondered, with a nice dose of guilt, if I was hanging out with Hannah just to be near Tate. But I loved Hannah. I've never laughed with anyone else as much as I’ve laughed with her.

It was my turn to reminisce. "I remember that time when Hannah and I decided to try out for softball, and you were nice enough to come out and help us practice. And I was on first base with my mitt ready to catch the ball."

He laughed, and I realized it had grown deeper and even more appealing. "And I popped one to Hannah, ran to first base, picked you up and tossed you over my shoulder and ran to second base with you giggling like a mad woman."

"Yes. A highly underhanded baseball move but I'll never forget it." And with that, the cabin grew quiet again, only the furnace puffing from the vents, the sounds of the slowing fire and the raindrops hitting the roof. "Thank you for always putting up with us, Tate. You were so patient, and we bugged the heck out of you."

He nodded. "I didn't mind. In fact, I liked it. To be honest, I had a bit of a thing for you, but I guess my earlier confession about the run up the rainy mountain probably gave that away."

I stared at my feet that were now red from the heat of the fire. "I can't believe I'm hearing this."

"Really? Then I guess I was pretty good at hiding my crush."

I pulled my legs in and faced him. "I used to have to consciously slow down my heart every time I saw you. I used to daydream about you during Mr. Ramsay's boring social studies lectures. When you left to college, I cried into my pillow every night for a week. And, after all that, you had a thing for me?"

His long lashes dropped, and he smiled. "Yeah, I sort of knew that you liked me too."

"What gave it away? The large I love Tate Harris tattoo across my forehead?"

He laughed and then stared at the fire. "I guess because you were Hannah's best friend, it never seemed right. I mean, you used to come over with your pillow and your hot band magazines and have sleepovers. It made things kind of strange. I'd convinced myself that I needed to stay away from you. Because of Hannah-- you know?"

"Yeah, that makes sense." We sat there in silence for a moment. I’d spent all that time worshipping the guy from a distance, trying to pretend he was just my best friend's older brother and there he was admiring me too. And for some reason, now that we'd both confessed, things felt sort of awkward again. "I'll make that cocoa." I blurted, cutting the steamy tension that seemed to have suddenly surrounded us. I hopped up.

"How about a game of cards?" he called.

"Sure." We were sliding back to the comfortable days of hanging out as kids, playing games in front of the fire. It was an easier, more natural state for both of us. It was for the best, I told myself as I filled a pot with milk.

As I returned to the fire with cups of cocoa, Tate was leaning into the hearth, placing more logs on the fire. His butt was still as perfect as ever. As godlike as I thought he was in high school, as he straightened, I realized how much more he'd filled out. His shoulders and arms looked as if they could crush someone, and my mind floated back to that rainy day on the mountain. If he'd put his arms around me back then, I would have slumped to the ground in a blissful faint.

"Remember that time when Greg Tuttle and I snuck up and pounded on the window while you and Hannah were in here playing cards?" he asked.

"How can I forget? I was so startled, I tossed my cards up in the air and three of them floated into the fire. Hannah screamed so loud I was sure she'd start an avalanche. You guys were rotten on that trip."

"Yeah, I felt really awful that we scared you guys so badly."

"Really? Did the feeling awful part come before or after you were doubled over with laughter?"

"You're right, we were rotten." He shuffled the cards. "Gin Rummy?"

"Sure."