Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

Owen was at a loss for words, truly overwhelmed by the experience.

"How's it taste, buddy?"

Owen managed a simple, "Delicious."This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

Norris's eyes sparkled with the thrill of finding a kindred spirit, "Love it? Have some more! And you've got to try this crystal steak with my secret sauce..." Throughout the meal, Owen's feedback was minimal but positive, "Tasty... very aromatic... such a unique recipe... never had anything like it..." Norris was more energized than ever.

Finally, when Owen stood to leave, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders, Norris called out, "Anne, see your Uncle Reynolds out, will you?" Owen was stunned.

"...Oh!" Roseanne got up, her head spinning a bit from the wine, her reaction a tad slow.

But her expression was as composed as ever, her gaze clear.

She walked Owen to the door, and as it shut with a bang behind them, she realized there wasn't much to 'seeing him out' since he lived next door.

Waving goodbye, perhaps a bit too influenced by the wine or just a slip of the tongue, she said, "Bye, Uncle Reynolds."

Owen paused mid-step, turning to her with a look so deep, it felt like peering into two bottomless vortexes.

He stepped closer, his voice low and teasingly dangerous, "What did you call me?"

The playful threat in his tone sent a shiver down Roseanne's spine.

She looked up, caught off guard by his intense gaze.

After a tense few seconds, her cheeks flushed a deep red, spreading to her ears as she stammered, "S-sorry... I don't know

why I said that. I meant to say Mr. Psaid

Reynolds..." en FindNovel

Damn it, "Uncle Reynolds"!

Roseanne covered her burning cheeks, wishing she could just faint on the spot.

Owen chuckled, "Think you'll take it easy on the drinking next time?"

He had noticed Roseanne's tendency to indulge in alcohol,

including times she drank to console Leda Reynolds or when she wanted to bring out beer during meals.

"You've got guts!" he said, giving her head a gentle tap that caught them both off guard.

Owen was taken aback by his own impulsiveness, knowing well this kind of touch was too intimate and could lead to misunderstandings, but he couldn't help himself.

Roseanne was stunned, not just from the alcohol slowing her reactions, but also from the unexpected tenderness of his touch.

"Do you know getting tapped on the head can make you dumb?" she blurted out.

Owen coughed, "Well, now I do."

"What if I become dumb now?"

"You..."

"What about my academic competitions? My medals?"

Owen was silent. "...Roseanne, what grade are you in?"

"I'm a freshman, why?"

...

Looks like she really was drunk.