Page 6 of Eternal

“That I did.” He grins. “Doing exactly what I’d expect.”

I narrow my eyes. “Meaning what, exactly? I already told you that I was just sitting here thinking and listening to music. It’s not my fault they showed up.”

Declan steps toward me, forcing me to tilt my head back to look up at him. “We both know why you were really out here, Teal. What you imagine in your dirty mindwhile you sit in the shadows. What actually gets your pussy dripping when the vanilla shit just won’t cut it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” He leans in, brushing his fingers over my temple. “You’re playing make-believe in that dirty little mind. Imagining the filthy things you know you shouldn’t be drawn to. Telling yourself it’s a way to cope—a way to fight back. When we both know you’re just scared to admit you do it because you enjoy suffering. You need the pain to feel alive.”

“How—” I shake my head, panic swelling in my chest. “How do you know any of that?”

Declan grins. “Dr. Parish should learn how to secure his records.”

My eyes widen as I shove him back a step. “You listened to my therapy sessions?”

It’s the only way Declan could know the things he’s repeating right now. I don’t keep a journal, and it’s rare I go into any detail with my friends about what I confess in therapy. The only time I’ve admitted anything close to what Declan is insinuating was in a closed-door session with Dr. Parish, and he records those for recordkeeping.

“That’s private,” I whisper.

“Nothing ever really is.” Declan smirks, watching me. “You should be more careful who you trust recording such intimate details of your life, Tealene. You never know who might hack in and learn all your secrets.”

Bile rises in my throat when I think about everything on those tapes. My struggles, my coping mechanisms, the unconventional ways I disassociate from what happenedto me when I was a child. Tears sting my eyes, and for the first time, I’m grateful there are holes in my memory because at least the worst of my secrets are deep enough that not even Declan can uncover them.

“You’re sick.” I take a step back. “I hate you.”

“I know.” Declan tucks his hands in his pockets, taking it like a compliment.

“What are you planning on doing with that information, Declan? Releasing it to the school? Hanging it over my head?” I cross my arms over my chest.

It’s not like Declan cares enough to use whatever he uncovered in my therapy sessions to get to know me. We already know we have nothing in common, and he hates me almost as much as I hate him.

Still, he must be planning something with the information. He wouldn’t waste hours of time listening to me reveal every dirty little secret just to annoy me at school when he already has that down to a science.

Declan must have bigger plans, and that thought alone is enough to make me nervous.

“You’re thinking too small, Teal.” He smirks. “I’m doing you a favor.”

“You don’t do favors.”

“Not usually, no. But let’s just say you’re not the only one who will benefit from this.”

“Because God forbid you do something out of the kindness of your heart.”

“It’s sweet you think I have one.”

“I don’t.” I narrow my eyes. “I wouldn’t make that mistake again.”

There was a time when I thought there was a sliver of good inside Declan Pierce. I was too young to know better, and I learned my lesson. He spent two hours being nice to me, and I thought it changed something. It didn’t.

The next day, he went back to his insufferable self. The product of his father, carrying on the family tradition of hating anyone with the last name Donovan.

“So why did you do it then?” I ask him again, getting anxious the longer he circles the question.

“Research.”

“On me?”

“More or less.” He shrugs. “Besides, it’ll come in handy when you realize you need me.”