"Sorry, I don't dance," Roseanne demurred.
The guy walked away, visibly deflated.
She thought that would be the end of it, but no sooner had one left than another appeared.
After turning down five guys in quick succession, Roseanne quickly pulled Mamie to find a secluded spot to sit.
Tucked away in a corner and dimly lit, they were almost invisible.
Roseanne let out a sigh of relief, finally a moment of peace.
"Roseanne, you're too popular. I'm half tempted to ask you to dance myself," Mamie chuckled.
"I might just take you up on that offer," Roseanne replied with a playful smile.
Mamie's chin lifted in pride, "Those guys would be green with envy!"
"Wouldn't they just?"
"It would be awesome~"
By the end, they were both in stitches.
Mamie declared, "I'm gonna grab us some snacks!"
"Sure."
Roseanne twisted open a bottle of water from the table, taking a few sips. She wasn't in the mood for socializing, nor did she care much for the sweet treats and drinks on offer, so she pulled out her tablet to start reading an article.
Mamie returned with an armful of snacks, raising an eyebrow at the sight.
A tad embarrassed.
Their table, hidden away as it was, hadn't attracted any other visitors.
Which was just fine.
But as fate would have it, the moment you wish to avoid something is precisely when it happens—
"Is this seat taken? Do you mind if I sit here?"
"Sorry, we were just—" Mamie was about to decline.
But then Roseanne, recognizing the voice, looked up in shock—
"Professor?! What are you doing here?"
There stood Owen Reynolds, clad in a sleek gray suit, a black coat draped over one arm, which he must have removed upon entering.
Owen Reynolds asked, "So, may I sit?"
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