Taken by Rowan Davis || #TKBMovieContest

Six freakin' miles. That's how much I had to walk from my house to my horrific job at Seven Eleven. It's not an ideal career choice, but a girl's got to earn money somehow. Otherwise, I wouldn't have any cash to shove into the undergarments of male strippers. Well, maybe something less explicit. With the petty salary I'd been earning, I inched a little closer to paying my college tuition. It was my last year of high school at Williams High, and I didn't want to be stuck at McDonald's at age 40.

"I'm in love with the shape of you!" I sang obnoxiously, no one around to cringe. Those six miles of land I dreaded consisted of patches of woods and not much else. So, I was free to share Ed Sheeran with the rest of the world.

"Whoa, way to be forward, Sweetheart," someone called out from a red pickup truck. I lived in a small, quiet town on the outskirts of Georgia, a place where everyone knew each other. But, I couldn't quite figure out who's voice it was. "Don't walk away. Say, how about I give you a ride into town."

"I don't think so, Man," I reply warily, "I need the exercise." I turned around to see him cruising a mere foot behind me. He wasn't wearing anything special, only a plaid shirt with the top two buttons undone and denim jeans. Long, messy brown hair fell a little above his shoulder, spilling out perfectly under the tan cowboy hat that hid his face. If he wasn't suspiciously driving down back roads, I'd consider him cute.

His words drifted on the wind, "Come on, Doll! You're perfect in my eyes, no exercise necessary..." Suddenly, the hum from his truck ceased. "I gave you a chance to have the easy way, but you weren't taking my bait." Before I could respond, I felt two muscular arms wrap around my waist and five fingers slither around my mouth. Crap, I thought as I was pulled into the passenger seat of his vehicle.

"What the hell!" I screamed at him, eyes lit up with fury.

"Jesus, calm yourself," he replied, lifting his hat to reveal his identity.  

Rowan Davis. He was the school's troublemaker who, as said in school legends, had visited the principal's office a total of 89 times. I was livid. How dare he stalk me, make me afraid, and interrupt my walk.

"No, shut up you idiotic, sleaze-ball--" I was cut off by his rough lips on mine, his hand rested gently on my cheek. We lingered momentarily, and I could tell my cheeks were painted pink. When we parted, I was at a loss for words and was severely confused as I watched him deliver an uneven smirk.

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. You know you loved it," he chuckled. Little did I know, this was the start. Of what? Well, the beginning of the dysfunctional love of Rowan Davis and I.