Until There Was You (7 page)

It took a week or two of screwing up her courage, but Posey finally spoke to Liam in school. After World History, she ran up the stairs, then galloped to room 224, where Liam would be going from Physics to English. She slowed down, not wanting him to see that she was out of breath, and glanced at her chest to make sure the tissues she’d stuffed in her bra hadn’t shifted.

Liam was smiling that half grin at some girl who was telling him he really should hang out with her sometime. Tramp. Posey pretended not to notice them, then, when she was just a couple of feet away, looked up. “Oh, hey, Liam.”

“Hi,” he said, a little cautiously. They didn’t speak in school (or ever, really, except for that one time in the alley).

“How’s Joe?” she asked.

He paused. “Joe’s fine.” Then he grinned, and Posey’s knees weakened so fast that she wobbled.

“So, anyway, you could definitely come over,” the slutty girl said. “You won’t be sorry.”

“Is that right,” Liam murmured, turning his attention back to her. Posey didn’t mind. She and Liam had a secret. Later that day, when she came to the restaurant, she slipped into the closet where Liam’s coat was and tucked a can of tuna into his pocket. No note. Let him wonder. Let him think about her the way she thought and thought and thought about him. Later that week, this time after Liam’s Spanish class, he spoke to her. “Hey. Joe says thanks.” And he smiled at her as he walked past and for a second, Posey was literally blinded with love.

“Do you, like…
know
him?” asked Melissa Shields, one of Posey’s classmates.

“Sure,” Posey said casually.

Timing it carefully so she didn’t seem too eager (though if she’d put as much time into her algebra class as she did into tuna cans, she would’ve had an A+), Posey once again left a gift for Joe in the pocket of Liam’s worn black leather jacket. For one blissful moment, she held the coat to her face, breathing in the smell—leather and soap and cloves—before sneaking back into the restaurant. Then, just before lunch on Thursday, Liam acknowledged her once more as he was going into the courtyard. “Joe’s getting spoiled.” He raised an eyebrow as if saying
You. You’re so dang cute.

“Where is all our tuna going?” Stacia wondered aloud, but Posey just smiled. Counted the days until she could plant another can. Despite the fact that there was fish involved, it all seemed incredibly clandestine and romantic. She could almost imagine them rehashing it someday in front of a roaring fire in a cabin on a mountain somewhere. Liam would gaze into her eyes and say, “Remember when you used to sneak me food to give to Joe? That’s when I first fell in love with you.” Then Joe, whom they would’ve adopted, would climb into her lap, purring noisily, and they’d laugh. And then kiss. Maybe even French kiss. Just the thought of it made her flushed and squishy.

But one day, as she was sitting at the table in the restaurant kitchen, Liam came over, holding the latest can of tuna she’d slipped into his coat pocket an hour ago. “Looks like Joe’s moved on,” he said. He set the can down.

“Moved on? Where?”

“Someone adopted him,” Liam said.

“What?” she yelped. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Some lady was out there, trying to get him to come out from behind the Dumpster. She asked if he belonged to anyone, and I said no, and she took him.”

“But…but who was she? We don’t even know her! She can’t just…take him.” Her voice thickened with tears.

Liam gave her an odd look. “I’m sure he’s fine.” Then he turned and walked away, his shift over. And though Posey tried and tried, wracking her brain in bed at night, she couldn’t think of anything else to say that would reestablish that bond, that secret, lovely feeling. What about Joe? Was he happy? Was the woman nice? Did Liam miss his little pal? He didn’t seem to be particularly suffering, surrounded as ever by a throng of admirers, male and female alike.

Summer came; Liam took another job at a garage, and Posey saw him less—and counted the days till school started once more. The first day of Posey’s sophomore year, however, was also the day that Emma Tate returned to New Hampshire.

Emma hadn’t been in school the past year; her dad, a politician, had made friends with the right demigod in Washington, and the Tates had been living in London. That was the kind of luck Emma had…a year in London.

She and Liam first saw each other in the courtyard at lunch, and when Liam’s eyes locked on Emma’s, Posey, who was watching from three tables away, felt her cheeks warm as if
she
were the one Liam Murphy was looking at. Except, of course, she wasn’t. Even so, her insides turned to gooey caramel as Liam stared at Emma as if she were the only other person on earth.

Even before that moment, just about every female in high school would have liked to have been Emma, Posey most definitely included. Emma Tate had long blond hair. Was five foot seven…tall, but not too tall…blue, blue eyes. Boobs. She knew how to dress, not like a mannequin from Abercrombie, but with true style. And she was
nice
. Her family went to St. Martin’s, just like the Osterhagens, and she always said hello, warmly, too. She’d had a boyfriend at Lawrence Academy, but they’d broken up when the Tates went abroad.

Of course, Liam—that bad-boy god—would fall for someone like Emma, the squeaky-clean and uber-nice princess. Posey knew that. She’d been studying Liam for months now and already felt like she knew him better than anyone. Still, her heart collapsed as Liam walked across the courtyard, straight to Emma, who looked right into his gorgeous, perfect,
unshaven
face and smiled, and that was that.

Once in a while, Emma would drop by the restaurant. Those times were the worst, when Posey, sitting on her stool doing homework and secretly watching Liam, would have to witness the secret side of the man she loved, the side she’d
known
was lurking under his tough, guarded exterior. Liam would smile…right there, Posey’s heart would lose another healthy chunk. With Emma, he’d talk…the rumble of his voice, already a man’s voice, deep and steady, causing her stomach to tighten with lust. And then—oh, the pain of it—then he’d give Emma a quick kiss goodbye, so natural and so…so…so perfect that Posey, inevitably eating something as she did her homework, would stop mid-chew, pen frozen above the paper, unable to tear her eyes off the two of them.

Emma was far too nice. “Hey, Posey, how’s it going?” she’d say. “Do you have Mr. Rivers for math? Oh, my God, he was the worst!” One time… Oh, the horror, the horror. “Posey, Liam and I are going to the movies. Want to come along?”

Sure, right after I jump off Memorial Bridge,
Posey thought. “Oh, thanks, but I have plans,” she chirruped. Right. Plans to do what? Lie on her bed and fantasize about Liam? Wonder what it would be like to be kissed? Still, she knew better than to tag along like some unwanted orphan.

As for other boys, nah. By the time she was sixteen, Posey’s bra size was a roomy 32A. Pants a size 12, boys’ slim. Her weight concerned her mom, who was six feet tall and weighed more than two hundred pounds, and so Posey was dragged to the pediatrician, who concurred.

“Well,” he announced, glancing at her paperwork, “your thyroid and blood work are normal, but I’m a little concerned.”

“I eat everything that’s not nailed down,” Posey protested. At his sharp look, she added, “And I don’t barf it up. I just have a fast metabolism.”

“She’s like a hummingbird, our little girl,” Stacia agreed fondly.

“Right,” he agreed. “But if you got sick, you don’t have anything in reserve. Two days of stomach flu, and we’d have to admit you to the hospital. And down the road, it can contribute to fertility problems.”

“Oh, no!” Stacia exclaimed, clutching Posey’s hand.

“Are your periods regular?”

Posey blushed. “Yes. Sort of. For the most part.”

“Will she be infertile, Doctor?” Stacia asked in a whisper.

“I can always adopt,” Posey said, her voice sharp. Stacia squeezed her hand again.

“It’s too early to talk about that,” the doctor said. “But let’s try to pack on a few pounds, okay? And listen. Most girls would love to have this problem. You’ll never be fat, look at it that way.”

“Well, I’d like to have boobs,” Posey grumbled. “Got anything for that?”

“It’s mostly hereditary,” the doctor said amiably. Great. Apparently, Posey’s birth mother was a stick insect.
Gretchen
was already a C-cup, something Aunt Ruth had called to announce that very morning. “But a little fattening up will help, too.”

Which is why Posey started going to Sweetie Sue’s Ice Cream Parlor every day after school. Sweetie Sue’s, where Emma Tate worked.

“Hi, Posey!” she said, looking irritatingly adorable in her pink uniform. “Good thing you came in, I was just about to fall asleep, it’s so dead in here.” She smiled. “What can I get you?”

Seeing Shiny Emma just reinforced all that was wrong with her. Posey swallowed, for once not hungry. “Can I have a hot-fudge sundae? Coconut ice cream, extra whipped cream, extra nuts.”

“You bet.” Emma scooped up the ice cream, drizzled the hot fudge, seemed to spray on the whipped cream for three full minutes. “Here you go,” she said, smiling as she handed it over. “I sure wish I could eat like you.”

Suddenly, Posey’s eyes were wet. “No, you don’t,” she whispered.

“Posey? You okay?” Emma’s pretty face creased in concern.

“I have to eat six times a day or I get lightheaded,” Posey blurted. “I eat more than my father, but I can’t keep any weight on, I don’t have any boobs, and the doctor just told me I might have trouble getting pregnant someday. This isn’t fun, you know.”

Emma’s hand went over her mouth. “Oh, Posey, I didn’t mean… I’m really sorry, I am.”

It was Emma’s niceness that did Posey in. To her horror, she started to cry in earnest, the words tumbling out. “It’s just…I can’t even wear girl clothes. Do you know where I shop? In the junior boys’ section, ages 8 to 12. Not one guy has ever checked me out, let alone
asked
me out.”

Emma came around the counter and put her arm around Posey’s shoulders. She guided her to a table, pulled some paper napkins from the dispenser and handed them to Posey.

“The stupid doctor told me I have to gain weight,” Posey said, her voice wobbly. “All I do is eat, and I just burn it all off, and I hate the way I look.”

“But why?” Emma said. “You’re so cute, Posey! You are!”

“Right. Which is why my nickname is Anne Frank.”

“No! Who calls you that?”

“The mean girls.” Posey cut her a look. “You know.”

“Yeah, I do,” Emma said grimly. She sighed. “So your doctor said you have to eat ice cream? I’m sorry, but that’s hardly cancer, okay?”

Posey couldn’t help a smile. “I know. As prescriptions go, it’s pretty good.”

“Exactly. So listen. Come here every day, and I’ll help you, okay?”

And so began a sort of friendship. Not that they hung out. The two-year age difference was significant, at least in high school, and Emma was one of the popular kids. She was going to Pepperdine in the fall, she had friends, cheerleading, student council. And Liam, of course. Emma seemed so much older, so much more…together. But at school, Emma did something rather stunning—she acknowledged Posey. Said hi sometimes, or waved in the halls, causing Kate to ask if Posey was blackmailing Emma.

About six weeks after she started the Campaign for Boobs, as she thought of it, Posey was power-eating a Snickers ice-cream sundae with caramel sauce and Reese’s Pieces when Emma asked, very casually, “Posey, has anyone asked you to the prom yet?”

Posey snorted, having become quite comfortable with Emma. “No. And no one will.”

“Well, if someone did ask, would you be interested?”

“Sure. I’d also be interested in taming a unicorn,” Posey answered, flicking through a magazine. “Also, I always thought it’d be cool to talk to undersea animals, like Aquaman.”

“Listen,” Emma said, ignoring the sarcasm. “Rick Balin just broke up with Jessica, who had it coming, let me tell you. He said he’ll go to the prom solo, but I thought you and he would make a cute couple.” She wiped her hands on the dishcloth. “So what do you think?”

Rick Balin? Blond, rich, good-looking Rick Balin? Second to Liam, Rick was…well. It was silly even to discuss. “That would never happen,” Posey said.

“I think it would!” Emma bounced over to her and sat down, golden ponytail swinging. “You’re wicked cute, even if you don’t know it. And you’ve gained a few pounds, haven’t you?”

“Four,” Posey answered. The ice cream had definitely been helping, as well as the three scrambled eggs with cheese she ate right before bedtime.

“And if we got you one of those demi push-up bras from Victoria’s Secret, you’d have a nice little package there. I totally bet he’d ask you! Especially if I give him a nudge!”

How could Posey resist? It wasn’t lost on her that if pigs did fly and Rick asked her out, she might be hanging out with Liam a little more. And just being near him, outside of the restaurant…that would be worth quite a bit indeed. Not that she wanted to break him up from Emma or anything. Just the chance to get him to remember how they’d bonded over Joe…to be able to tell him something funny and get him to laugh, just to be—perhaps—his friend…that would be enough. More than enough. That would be
wonderful
.

A week and a half later, and one pound later, and one thirty-five-dollar push-up bra later as well, Rick Balin approached Posey at her locker. “Posey, hey.”

“Hi, Rick,” Posey said, as if she’d ever said anything other than “excuse me” to him.

“So, Emma said you might be free for the prom,” Rick said, his famously soulful brown eyes scanning her up and down, pausing on her chest. That bra was worth every cent.

“Um, yeah. I’m free,” Posey said casually, her cheeks scalding. But Emma had coached her on strategy, and she knew to play it light.

“So, you wanna go with me?” Rick asked, grinning.

She shrugged, though her hands were shaking. “Sure.” She glanced at him, gave him a little smile, then looked back into her locker.