Wereball Series - Along Came A Mate

Chapter 27

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You know what they said about gossip and pictures posted on social media. That they were just a tangled mass of lies, appearances, and insecurities masked by fancy filters.

Deep down I already knew all that. But the reality was something else; especially in moments when strong emotions took over us, when we were possessed by jealousy and co.

Until that day, I had ignored that world of 'putting likes', certified falsehood and abrasion of fingers (after liking and scrolling down too many pictures). I would have loved to inform all those girls who put likes to photos of my mate, MY MATE, that they would be at risk of premature arthritis from wearing out their fingers so much. But then again, if they got arthritis or myopia, they would have deserved it after drooling on someone else's mate. Me, in this case.

At the time, I had created my Instagram account simply because Makena and Tiziano were active day and night and always complained that could not tag me in their photos or stories. Lachlan was like me, thankfully, more of a fan of old-fashioned mind-link or text messages. However, as captain of the pack's Wereball team, he had a social image to defend, at least according to 'the social experts' who I highly doubted had any real data to prove their theories.

Ultimately, my twin was also bribed and forced to create an Instagram account. But this fact had given rise to a dangerous chain of events: Uncle Andrew and my mother had made their Instagram profile too, together of course. That then led my father to create his very own. And with that, goodbye loving privacy, and welcome awkwardness.

My father, the Alpha, who commented with hearts or kisses on photos posted by Tiziano, who had almost a million followers, was... well, a surprise? But mostly it was embarrassing to witness the scary big Alpha active on instagram. He defended himself by stating that he missed me at home, so he enjoyed seeing what I was up to and how I was spending my time.

Besides, it was sad that he had more followers than me.

Anyway.

Returning to the heart of the matter, after two days that I had found out who my mate was, I could not resist the power of social media.

So, I went to browse the official page of my mate, which had 3 million followers of which at least 90% were women. The comments, often too explicit, had made my guts boil and I had sent several curses all over.

Despite that, I had to admit seeing his photos did something to my ovaries.

The good thing was that he did not seem active, in fact, it looked like he was not the person posting the photo, but there was someone, a manager perhaps, posting them, as they looked professionals.

There were many images, all of them related to wereball. My mate talking to a group of fans, my mate throwing the ball while jumping ~ that photo had done weird things to my drooling self, my mate clutching a trophy with a towel around his neck, and so on. I had spent hours zooming in on his face, losing myself on his facial expressions, most of them full of confidence and smirks, some with eyes that spat fire.

My neurology book lay, unused, on the nightstand as I analysed and studied my mate's photos.

There was another fact about social media: when you looked for something that was not meant to be found, well, it was eventually found.

I knew I should not have dug, but I could not stop my fingers, having a conscience of their own, to look for more accounts.

In the search tab, I had typed in several names and eventually found a profile of one of the Wereball players of dark Diamond.