A Stranger on the Beach. Michele Campbell

of my jeans. He pulled me under him, stood above me, yanked his jeans down to his knees. There was no point in screaming. The rock walls were too thick, the wind and the surf too loud on the beach. If I yelled, or fought, or resisted in any way, I’d only make him angrier. I couldn’t predict how he’d react, because I barely knew him, but he might hurt me. The Catholic girl inside my head, the one my mother had raised to feel responsible when men misbehaved, was saying, What the hell did you expect? He’s not gonna to take no for an answer when you already told him yes.

      I was about to give in when I heard a noise. Above the sound of Aidan’s rushed breathing, there was a scrambling, a dislodging of pebbles near the cave entrance that attracted my attention. Aidan jumped off me, pulling up his pants. The two surfer dudes we’d seen before out on the water stood there in dripping wet suits, staring at us.