Free Until There Was You by Kristan Higgins

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.
    “Does he have a name? The cat? Did you name him?” Posey babbled, unwilling to let him go. The intimacy of the moment, the hidden depths of this mysterious alpha male, oh, it was so romantic! He was feeding a starving cat! Him! The motorcycle guy who had girls crawling over him!
    Liam paused. “I’ve been calling him Joe,” he admitted with a crooked grin, and Posey almost died.
    “That’s a good name,” she managed.
    Liam’s smile grew. “See you, Cordelia.” With that, he went inside.
    The simmering lust, the raging interest exploded into love. Who wouldn’t fall in love with a man who took the time to feed a homeless kitty? She held that image against her heart like a secret jewel. Only she knew about it, she was sure. Those girls Liam might’ve slept with, girls who left their panties in his locker or wrote things about him on the bathroom walls…they didn’t know what Posey knew—Liam Declan Murphy was not just the hottest thing ever to grace Bellsford