of drunk guys. Someone turned on a boombox and the camp became a party of roving testosterone streaming in and out of one another’s tents all night.
Once we began our session, there would be almost not-stop action, and this was our last chance to relax. Most of the guys seemed hell bent on making the most of it.
I stayed in my tent most of the night, trying to brush off the uncomfortableness I felt when I realized I would be the only woman on the entire crew. I was hoping for at least one other person to be able to bond with, but that wasn’t happening, apparently.
I scrolled through my phone, my feet tucked up under me as I tried to get as comfortable as possible on the very small and uncomfortable bunk, the sounds of the party in full swing swirling around me. I was thankful for at least a small space to be able to escape to, even if the canvas thin walls of the tent provided only an illusion of separation.
I suppressed a groan as one of the guys wandered in, obviously drunk as he stumbled to his bed. He sat down on the edge and began removing his boots. It took a moment for him to realize he wasn’t alone, but once he did, he zoomed in on me like an unopened bottle of whiskey.
“You!” he slurred, pointing at me.
“Hey.” I gave him the cold shoulder, refusing to look at him, hoping he’d lose interest. It didn’t work. He stood up and stumbled over to me, sitting on the bed next to me with a heavy plop.
“I’m Charlie,” he said, staring me down.
I looked up at him warily. “Fiona.”
“That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Jesus.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked. I flashed him a look, one that said in no uncertain terms to fuck off, but he ignored it.
He reached out to touch my hair and I grabbed his wrist in mid-air.
“Don’t touch me.” I squeezed his wrist firmly before I flicked his hand away. He laughed, his laughter sending a spray of saliva onto my phone. I grabbed the blanket and wiped it off, disgusted.
“You aren’t really a bitch, are you?”
“Try me,” I said, lifting a brow.
He leaned in and sniffed me and I pulled away. “You don’t smell like a bitch.”
“Charlie, please leave me alone.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Then I’ll scream bloody murder and get you fired from the crew.”
“What if you like it?”
“What if I like what?” I said, my voice turning cold. I recognized his subtle warning and I didn’t like where this was going. I reached down into the backpack at my side, my fingers wrapping around the knife I kept in there. The last thing I wanted to do was pull it out. I was hoping like hell this guy was smarter than he was appearing to be right now.
“You know,” he said, his voice dropping to a low whisper.
“Charlie, leave me alone,” I warned him again.
“Fiona, it’s not fair, you know,” he said. “You’re the only pretty girl in the whole camp.”
“I’m the only woman here at all, Charlie.”
“Exactly!” he said.
“Look, Charlie, I’m not inter--.”
Before I could finish my sentence he was on top of me, pushing me back onto the bed, his full weight pinning me down. My hand slid out of my bag before I could pull the knife out.
“I promise you’re going to like it,” he whispered, his beer breath hot and rancid in my face.
“Charlie, stop!” I said, attempting to throw him off of me. I pushed at his chest, but he was so much heavier than me, and he didn’t budge. I bucked my hips, which only encouraged him more, as I pressed up into his erection.
“Stop!” I cried.
“You’re a fighter, aren’t you? You’re going to love this, I promise. I have a really big --.”
Suddenly, Charlie was flying backwards through the air and his face was replaced with the very angry face of the handsome guy I’d seen in here earlier -- the one who’s bunk was right next to mine.
“What the fuck, Pearson?” Charlie cried, as he landed with a heavy thud on the dirt floor.
The guy rushed him, pulling him to his feet, then punching him hard, which sent Charlie flying right back down to the ground.
“I didn’t do anything!” Charlie said, holding his jaw and looking up at Pearson like a little kid in trouble.
I scrambled for my bag, plunging my hand inside and