Having Mr Alcott

13 Years Ago. Lizzie’s POV I remember the very first day I met Mr. Alcott vividly. I was only nine, but the scene is etched in my memory. A sleek black car rolled into our driveway, coming to a stop less than a yard from where I sat on the tire swing hanging from our big front yard tree. My attire was typical for a day of play: dingy-white chucks with rainbow laces, jean overalls, and knee-high pink socks, all marked with the evidence of a lively game of hide-and-seek with Evie earlier that day. The car door swung open, revealing a shiny, black dress shoe stepping onto the pavement. My gaze traveled upwards, taking in the navy blue suit pants, the crisp white button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, tattooed forearms. Then I saw his face. He was tall, with broad shoulders and sunglasses that shielded his eyes. His skin was a deep bronze, as if he’d spent a lifetime under the sun. He rolled his neck, and I swear I could hear the crack from where I sat. His attention was fixed on the house, seemingly oblivious to my presence. He shut the car door and took a step to the side. His jawline was sharp, with a hint of stubble on his face. Tattoos covered his hands and arms, some dark, some colorful. His dark brown hair was tapered on the sides and back, the longer top part slicked back. If I had to guess, I would have pegged him as no older than thirty, maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven. When he finally took off his sunglasses and looked around, his eyes landed directly on me. His expression didn’t change. He seemed unfazed by my presence, almost as if he knew I was there all along. He walked to the hood of his car, his head slightly tilted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up with a practiced flick of a lighter. I frowned at him. "You know you probably shouldn't smoke," I said, easing into a gentle swing. "It's bad for you." He continued to puff, sitting on the hood of his car. "You should mind your own business." I stopped swinging, planting my feet on the ground. "Are you supposed to be here? I don’t know who you are..." "I'm a friend." "I’ve never met you. How can you already be my friend?" I challenged. He shrugged. "Don’t know, but what I do know is that you ask a lot of questions." I narrowed my eyes at him. "My dad has a gun, I’ll tell him you’re out here." At that, he smirked and stood tall, looking at me from beneath thick eyebrows. He waved his free hand dismissively. "Go on, then. Tell him." My heart pounded. I had never been spoken to like that by an adult. I panicked and ran for the house, fearing he might try to stop me. For all I knew, he could have been dangerous. "Dad!" I screamed, bursting through the front door. "Dad!" Dad popped his head around the corner of the kitchen, brows furrowed in concern. "What, Liz? What is it?" I clung to him, my heart still racing. "There's a man outside. He's smoking and he told me to mind my own business!" "What?" Dad immediately pulled away, handing me over to Mom, who rushed over to comfort me. The doorbell rang, and Dad and Mom exchanged a worried glance. "Stay in here," Dad instructed us, pulling out a kitchen knife as he moved towards the front door. Peeking through the peephole, Dad's tension suddenly melted away. "Jesus, Liz," he sighed, shaking his head. "Who is it?" Mom asked, still holding me close. Dad opened the door, revealing the stranger from outside. "Reed!" Dad laughed. "What the hell, man? I almost came at you with a knife, thinking you were some stranger messing with my daughter!" The man, Reed, laughed. "Did I really scare her? I was only joking, Liz. I know who you are. We've actually met before, but you probably don’t remember." “Yeah, she was about six,” Dad said, smiling. “It was brief though. You waved at him when he said hey after I picked you up from school.” “I don’t remember,” I mumbled, still feeling uneasy. Reed held up a bottle of champagne. "I brought you guys something to go along with dinner." “Oh, Reed, that was sweet, but you didn't have to," Mom said, smiling as she took the bottle. "It's not like me to show up empty-handed. It was the least I could do." Mom blushed. Everyone seemed charmed by him but me. Reed turned his attention back to me. "I even brought something for you, little one." "I don't want it," I muttered, crossing my arms. "Liz," Mom started to scold me, but Reed shook his head, still smiling. "It's okay. I scared her. She just needs time to warm up to my sense of humor." He walked towards me with measured steps and knelt down, pulling out a small red bag from his pocket. "Can you guess what it is?" I blinked at the bag. "No. What?" "Chocolate." He handed it to me, and I took it, still wary. "Your father told me you love chocolate. There's plenty more where that came from, Liz." I looked up at him. His eyes were an unusual mix of dark and grey. "What do you say, Liz?" Mom prompted, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I don't know his name, Mom," I grumbled. "Mr. Reed," she replied. I sighed, trying not to roll my eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Reed," I mumbled. Mr. Reed stood up, and Mom and Dad moved around him. Mom announced, "The steak is still grilling but should be done soon! I'll put the champagne in the fridge." "Get settled in and meet me out back for a few beers," Dad said, pointing towards the deck. "Alright." Mr. Reed walked past me, tossing a wink my way. "Don't worry. You'll warm up to me soon enough. Enjoy those chocolates, Izzie." No one called me that. My face burned hot, and my heart fluttered. The stranger-danger bell had been replaced by a confusing, bubbly sensation. I didn’t understand the tingling in my chest or the tumbling in my belly. It freaked me out. One thing was clear: this man was no good. He was overconfident, a smoker, and, worst of all, a jerk. Yet, despite knowing all that, I still felt an inexplicable crush on Mr. Reed Alcott. And I didn't like it one bit.