Page 60 of Claim Me
I nod once, already moving numbers around in my mind as they fall into place. This is much harder, but still doable. "Eighty-five squared is seventy-two twenty-five. Eighty-six is seventy-three ninety-six… so it’s between," I mutter, pushing faster, but it’s not as clean anymore, not like before.
"Closer to eighty-six. Eighty-five point nine… maybe nine-five, umm—"
"Eighty-five point nine five eight one," Blue says.
I look up immediately. "Why did you interrupt me? I was narrowing it down!"
"Sorry."
I clench my jaw and just have to ask.
"You didn’t just calculate it?"
He says nothing.
"You have those electronic glasses; I’m sure you can project a calculator in them."
Blue just takes off his glasses and sets them aside. His face is bare now, but if I thought he’d look less stern without them, I was wrong. That statuesque, haughty aura is still there in every smooth line of his features.
I exhale through my nose. "You didn’t let me finish the calculation. Try me again."
Blue doesn’t hesitate this time.
"Natural logarithm of 2, to five decimal places."
I let out a short laugh. "Damn! That’s not even the same category!"
"No," he says calmly. "It isn’t. Are you up for a challenge?"
I frown, because I foresee problems, but try anyway. Of course, with something this complex, my brain’s starting to overheat. After a good minute of pushing through it, I mutter, "Zero point six nine three… something."
This time, Blue waits.
I’m practically frying my brain, and maybe I could work it out, but the stress and the need to impress him get me stuck in my own head. I let out a breath.
"Zero point six nine three one? Or two…"
Silence. "Final answer?"
I shrug. "I’d need more time to think."
"0.693147."
His answer is flat, immediate. And it’s even accurate to six decimal places, dammit!
I lean back, jaw tightening even more.
"Yeah! I was basically correct, just rounded it off a bit."
"Basically."
"Okay. You got me, genius. So you can do it too, mental math like that?"
There’s that subtle edge to him now, but not arrogance.
"I can."
I study him for a second, then I push the empty plate away from me, my expression probably a little sour.
