Her nails went right in the man's eyes, her thumbs scraping his gums as she pushed his head back.
Her boyfriend curled into a ball on the ground. . .
But that's not true. He's not a wuss, I know the guy. I'm inside his head for heaven's sake (and it is).
Here's an ending for you:
The two (surviving) main characters are sitting on a beach watching the sun settle into a crystal clear body of water.
The feminine one (not necessarily a man) shivers and her partner wraps a towel around her shoulders.
They clink champagne flutes together and the sun disappears --not under the horizon line, simply disappears, like a switch has been flipped and now the sun's light is "off."