Page 95 of Hunted: Season Two

Another giggle and bite are executed. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

“Because you’re in love and know what it looks like?”

“Exactly.”

This time we girlishly giggle together, and I embrace it.

I actuallylikehanging out with Posie.

It’s so…differentthan being with the guys.

Don’t get me wrong.

The three of us have a shit ton of fun together.

Teasing and cooking and dancing and building and binging and still banging like my namesake.

When we’re together – whether that beallof us or in pieces due to someone working – it’s undeniably incredible. They have not only become the two people I trust the most in the world – pens down – but the two people who know me best.

Who have welcomed letting me get to knowmebetter.

The real me.

The me who doesn’t have to hide behind blocked windows or recoil in fear over convertibles.

I love them.

I do.

Fuck…I really, really do.

But I want friendsoutsideof them.

Just like I want an identityapartfrom us as a couple.

Throuple?

Threeple?

Whatever the term is.

Hanging out with Posie – sans the boyfriends – is beginning to give me that.

Just like texting Val fornon-baby things.

Both females are helping fill inthatcolumn of me I didn’t even realize was so empty.

For instance?

I found out that I really like getting pedicures.

And in turn…they found out that theyreallylike coming on my feet afterward.

It’s a win for everyone.

“Soooooooo,” Posie steers the conversation once more while offering me another piece of tape, “you’re meeting Nolan’s ‘rents?” Her head tilts to the side in obvious intrigue. “I didn’t even know they were still alive.”