Until There Was You(19)

“Niih,” Posey breathed. This was amazing! God so loved her!

“Hey,” he said.

“Liam will be working here in the kitchen,” her father said. “Washing dishes, cleaning up.”

“I… That’s… Hi,” Posey said. Working here? Unbelievable! They’d become friends, she could see it immediately. They’d hang out, Liam would grin and talk about those dumb popular kids. They’d become BFFs…then, yes, she could see it so clearly, they’d fall in love. High school would be a dream of happiness. Prom queen, okay? No more invisibility, no more slinking through the halls. He’d wait for her to graduate, then they’d head off for the same college. Get married, have a house on the water, make out every single night. Oh, Elvis Presley, they’d sleep in the same bed!

Every day from then on, Posey tried to get his attention, to make him see what a great friend she could be. But Liam was always busy, always offering to do something else once a task was done. “Mr. Osterhagen, you want me to break down those boxes in the back?” he’d ask, and her dad would thank him for being so diligent. Other than grunting hello, Liam really didn’t speak to her. He was polite and respectful to her parents, though he was rough around the edges, but whatever affection he may have had for Max and Stacia didn’t transfer over to her. It wasn’t that he was rude; it was more that he didn’t seem to think there was any reason for them to talk. At school, he might acknowledge her with a nod (which she’d relive over and over, admitting that yes, she was pathetic, but he nodded and it was thrilling).

Posey wasn’t the only one obsessed with Liam, that was clear. It was his attitude. And his looks. Liam was gorgeous. He was aloof. He had hidden depths and a tragic and secret past. Everyone wanted to be him or do him. According to the girls’ room gossip, which Posey both lived for and dreaded, Liam was such a good kisser. Yes, Amanda Peters was planning to meet him under the bleachers after school—who wouldn’t? And everyone knew that he’d already done Taylor Bennington, but what guy hadn’t, right?

However many girls Liam did or didn’t do, he didn’t talk about it. He might give a slow smile or a smoky look—the meaning of the term “bedroom eyes” became abundantly clear. But he didn’t brag about his conquests (not that she could tell) or his motorcycle, didn’t talk about his misdeeds. He just didn’t seem to care, and that was the most exciting thing of all.

But Posey knew a little something about being on the outside looking in, and there were times when she swore she saw the same yearning in Liam’s expression, that little flash of vulnerability. He may have been admired, but he didn’t belong.

Previously, Rick Balin had been the alpha dog of Bellsford High. His family had lived in town forever; they’d owned mills, then boatyards, and Rick was the type of kid who got a red Mercedes convertible for his sixteenth birthday, crashed it before the week was up, and got a silver Mercedes as reward. He was blond, he was solid, he played football, he was careless and smug and it worked. Only at Bellsford after he’d flunked out of Choate, Andover, and St. Paul’s, Rick was widely regarded as a catch, and Jessica Blair daily trumpeted her status as his girlfriend.

But from Liam’s first day forth, the order changed. Liam was the lone wolf in the pack’s territory, and rather than challenge Liam, Posey watched as Rick and the lesser dogs began to mimic him. If Liam’s jeans had holes in the knees, the next day Rick’s would, too, though Rick probably ordered the maid to age and rip his own. At first, Liam ate his lunch alone in the courtyard, rather than in the cafeteria; Rick and his followers started eating outside, too. Eventually, the pack eased around Liam, trying to impress, to assimilate him. Liam tolerated their presence, but Posey could tell it was tolerance only (well…that’s how it looked). He let them hang out, but he didn’t become one of them, and in some ways, he seemed more alone than ever.

Sure, he might (he did) sleep with a few (more than a few) girls here and there—hard to avoid, as they practically hurled themselves at his groin, but he hadn’t truly connected with anyone. Yet. Maybe once she finally blossomed, as her mother put it, he’d notice Posey. It was what she prayed for nightly, heaven knew.

Then one day after school, as Posey was walking to the restaurant, she spied Liam out by the trash cans in the alley. He was kneeling down, holding something in his hand. Posey froze, drinking in the sight of him—the torn jeans, the faded black T-shirt, the way the wind ruffled his hair. Then a tiny, striped cat came out from behind the trash can, warily, slowly. It sniffed the air, then leaned forward, closer. Liam said something too quietly for Posey to hear. The cat sniffed again, took another step closer…then took the offering in his mouth and scampered back to safety. Liam smiled, stood up, and saw Posey.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.” Her face heated in a rush.

“Don’t tell your parents, okay? I probably shouldn’t be feeding him, but…” Liam shrugged.

“I won’t tell anybody.”

“Thanks.” He started back into the restaurant.

“Is he tame? Do you think he’s lost?” she blurted, terrified this would be their last conversation.

He turned around. “I think he’s a stray. It took two weeks to get him to come to me.” The sound of his voice—the fact that he was speaking to her—was breathtakingly amazing.