I’m drowning.
“Why the sudden shift in method?” he asks, forcing me to meet his cool gaze. “Was I not cooperating, doc?”
I wet my lips. Take a steadying breath. “Free association is just another tool we can use to uncover any repressed emotions or memories. Its purpose isn’t meant to treat, but rather to learn.”
His head tilts. “What’s left to learn? Unless this learning technique works both ways. There’s so much I’d love to learn about you, London. I want to learn how you feel beneath me. I want to learn how your hair feels tangled in my hand—”
“Stop.”
He does. He presses his shoulders against the chair, his arms on full display. I was wrong—and I’m rarely wrong—to think he hid his scars in shame. Grayson’s intelligence has always been my biggest obstacle. I was vain to believe I could simply outwit him. He’s offered me nothing of his past or himself.
He’s been the one gathering and collecting intel. On me.
That ends now.
“You’re going to learn about me during this session, also,” I say. “This method works both ways, between patient and psychologist.”
He sits forward. “We don’t need these evasive methods. Anything you want to know, just ask. I’ll tell you.”
“Fine.” I push off the desk and pull my seat up past the yellow line. “This takes trust, Grayson. Trust between patient and doctor, and I’m trusting you not to harm me with your actions or your words, and you can trust me not to do the same.”
He goes still, not a muscle twitch or facial tic to indicate that my proximity provokes him. But it’s in his stillness that I read his anxiety. Then there’s the slightest curl of his hand into a fist as he rests it on the chair.
“I can smell your body lotion,” he says. His eyes close as he inhales. “Lilacs.” A grin tips the corner of his mouth up. “I had one of my fans send me some fresh blooms to put in my cell.”
Ignoring the baiting comment, I remain calm. “You seem defensive today.”
His smile drops. “That’s not a question.”
“We’re practicing free association. I’m able to voice my thoughts just as you are, without having to guard them.”
He glances at the camera again. “Are you worried about what you might reveal?”
I look down at my crossed ankles. “Actually, I am.” When I glance up, his demeanor is marked
ly different. More intense. More serious. As if he doesn’t feel the need to perform.
“We can start with a simple word association,” I begin. “I’ll say a word, and you’ll say the first thing that comes to mind. The point is not to take too long or to think about your response. Can I trust that you’ll do that?”
“You can trust that I’ll do anything you ask of me.”
I swallow forcefully, keeping my gaze fixed on him. Unaffected. “Let’s start simple. Animal.”
“Pig.”
“Salt.”
He peeks at the fish. “Tank.”
“Flowers.”
“Lilacs.”
“Finger.”
“String.”
“Back.”