Page 33 of The Mastermind
“Provoked me? I’m a mistake?” Her eyes shot out blades of ice that pierced through me.
Christ.I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. “That’s not what I meant, Audri.”
How was I going to fix this? I could see her reaching for the fork in the sink and stabbing me with it.
She placed her hands on her hips. “Do you think I’m one of those women at your beck and call? Well, think again, Remington Starke.” Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe Iprovokedyou. Maybe I wanted to know if I could bend that stiff, straight line.” Her index finger drilled into my chest.
Fascination sparked. She saw me as a stiff, straight line? That must have been the oddest insult I’d ever heard, but Audri wasn’t the norm. She always stood out to me, always held an important spot in my life. Some things weren’t meant to be revealed, though. They were more special when hidden in the dark, which I preferred.
“What does that even mean?” I emphasized, drawing a straight line in the air between us.
She used one index finger and drew a curved line.
“I don’t get it.” I cocked my head, still trying to understand what she saw. I pressed my lips into a tight line, thinking. What was I missing?
“Men.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “They don’t know how to use their imagination. At. All.”
She walked up to me and took my index fingers in each hand. “Pay attention. Keep that stern look you always have.” She placed my fingers on each corner of my mouth and pushed them up. “What does that feel like?”
I mumbled gibberish since I couldn’t speak with my lips outstretched.
She grinned and dropped her hands. “You can talk now.”
“It feels like a smile.”
“Bingo.” She snapped her fingers. “You’re the straight line I wanted to see if I could bend. I succeeded today.Many times. What is a smile to you?”
What kind of question was that? If that were on the IQ test, I’d probably fail.
“It’s something you do when you’re happy?” I crossed my arms. “Something that induces melatonin. Something that makesyoulook pretty.”
Pink blossomed on her cheeks, but she tried to hide it by waving a hand.
“No, no. You’re giving me all the wrong definitions. Let meteachyou something, smarty pants.”
I couldn’t help smiling.
“There! There!” She held up a hand, excitement filling her eyes. “Don’t move. Keep that smile.” She grabbed her cell phone from the kitchen table and snapped a picture of me, then showed me an image of myself beaming. “See? A smile is a curved line”—she traced my lips on her cell phone—“that turns things around.”
At that moment, with the visual, the silly demonstration, her adorable definition, and the joy in her eyes, I understood. The profound meaning meant more to me than she thought. A smile wasn’t just a curved line—it was a line that showed my genuine emotion to her.
She had used a simple line to open me, penetrate me.
That was profound.
I took her phone and pulled her to me. “Say cheese!” I snapped a selfie of us and sent a copy to myself.
“What was that for?” she asked, taking back her phone.
“So you know the other important definition.”
“Which is . . .?”
“A line has no ends in both directions. It is infinite and keeps going. If it has an end, it’s called a line segment.” I rubbed a thumb over her lips, not caring about what I’d just told myself about leaving her alone. I was giving her a critical math lesson.
She didn’t push my thumb away. “So, I captured a ‘line segment’ on you?”
“In the physical sense, yes. The smile ends where the lips end. But on a different level, on the unseen plane, it never ends. It goes on forever.”