“I can’t—”
“You’re not leaving that seat until all eight litres are consumed. And trust me, you don’t want to know what happens if you don’t comply.”
It takes two and a half hours, some groans of discomfort, and a few tears, but she finally finishes all eight litres of water.
She’s confused, disoriented, and struggling to stand up. “What did you do to me?” she slurs.
“The same thing you did to Katie—forced her to drink against her will—but here’s the kicker. As I kneel beside her, I observe her swaying in the chair. “It’s common knowledge about the risks of excessive alcohol consumption. Did you know that consuming six litres of water within three hours can lead to water intoxication, which can be fatal?”
Attempting to rise from the chair, she tumbles forward and lands face-first into a pile of dog shit.
“Yeah, I failed to mention that the last bottle had two sleepers in it.” I bag up every bottle and step over her semi-conscious body. “I figured eight litres would be enough to do the job. I’ll admit, I’m unsure of how long it takes to actually die from water intoxication, hence the sleepers.” Tossing the bag over my shoulders, I grin down at her. “You can just drift off now, knowing that Carl is going to follow you soon. Only his death won’t be half as peaceful as yours.”
* **
The needle buzzes and scratches against my skin, Cillian’s brow is furrowed in concentration as he works on the tattoo. “This does not even begin to match your other ones,” he says, wiping away excess ink.
“I’m comfortable enough with my masculinity to have something cute like this,” I reply, watching the design take shape. He thought I was joking at first. I get it; I do. The rest of my tattoos are Celtic knots, snakes, and skulls, so when I asked him to create a snuggle bug design, he was taken aback.
I asked what he thought of when he heard the term, and after taking a few moments to think about it, Cillian replied with a shrug, “something cute and squishy, I guess.” What he created is a tiny, smiling bug swaddled in a blanket, and now that design is being inked onto my skin.
“I’m assuming this is for Katie?” He asks with a chuckle, already knowing the answer. “I didn’t realise you had history.”
“We don’t have history.”
“So,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “you’re getting a tattoo for someone you’ve been seeing for what? Less than six months.”
I nod, smirking at the bug grinning from its blanket cocoon. “Sometimes you just know.”
He chuckles lowly. “You sound like you’re going to marry her.”
“I am.”
The needle stops, he looks at me in surprise. “Really? So soon?”
“Sooner if I had my way.” My smile widens when Katiewalks in, her eyes widening at the sight of the tattoo.
“What the hell is that?” She laughs, her hand covering her mouth as she approaches.
“It’s a bug; what’s it look like?”
“When you said you wanted something to remind you of me, I didn’t think you meant a literal bug,” she snorts, shaking her head. “You know tattoos are permanent, right?”
“You know what else is permanent?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Clearly not your hard on,” she quips.
Cillian pulls away, chuckling. “Thanks for that.”
“I think we should let Cillian stick my name on this finger of yours.” I fold down every finger on her hand except the ring finger.
She blushes to her roots. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because I don’t know what kind of ring you want yet.” I hold her gaze for as long as she’ll allow me before she looks away with a shy smile. “Big, small, gold, silver, diamond, sapphire—whatever you want, bug, it’s yours.”
Her throat works as she swallows, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You said you don’t want to get married again.”
“I didn’t.” Lacing our fingers together, she finally meets my gaze again. “Then I met you.”
