Page 39 of Hunted, Season Three

I love that they’re getting along.

That Demián welcomed him.

Embraced him like he’s family.

Like I should’ve allowed him to do long before now.

The earful that I got from both him and Eva regarding my choices of shutting them out was warranted.

Painful.

But fucking deserved.

And the endless love that they’ve shown the two people I’m planning to marry is the best gift I’ve gotten today.

You know.

Until they say yes.

Ifthey say.

I wanna saywhenthey say yes but shit happens.

I could be wrong.

Like I was about what type of sexy panties to put in our woman’s stocking.

Had Val not stepped in I would’ve caught hell for thinking that hipsters meant that they were for chicks who grew up around when the word was more popular.

“Timeeeeeee,” mirthfully sings Rabbit.

“Fuck!”squeaks Val, red and green painted manicured nails curling in frustration.“How could you not guessBreakfast Club?!”

“Why would I have guessed that?!”

“I drew eggs-”

“Those aren’t zeroes?”

“Stop thinkingaboutZero and who he’s with and start thinking about how you’re losing us this game!”

“Oh, it’s my fault we’re losing?!”

“You’re the one who can’t guess!”

“You’re the one who can’t draw!”

“You’re the reason we don’t have any points!”

“You’re the reason I wanna switch partners!”

“This is why you havetwo,” Eva playfully advises on a sip of red wine.“So, they can do this.”

“Obtendrás cena y espectáculo,” Demián lightly laughs.

“Dinner and a show,” translates Val in our direction.

“Ah,” our woman happily snickers.

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