Our Words Are Stars

4. The perfect lie.

Never, never, never would have I ever thought that just looking though Ariana Grande's Instagram pictures of her last summer break in some peculiar beach in Spain, would I have seen him on the back of one picture.

Or, at least as much as I can tell, what I believe is him. Will.

My first thought, however, is that it is completely impossible. Because the simple reason that the picture's date is December 28th. And that is crazy impossible because William was with me at the same date, in some random trip we made on the other side of the world where that picture was taken.

Impossible. Period.

But the picture is there, though. And someone looking just like William on the back, running to the sea, almost like if he was half-looking back and smiling to someone that you can't see in the picture. But yes, even when you have to zoom in the picture and looking at just the half of his face, I could totally sweat that guy is William.

Same crooked smile, same dimple over his left cheek, same messy, black hair, same skin brownish-color...

It's him. It has to be him.

I start to laugh nervously simply because just to think about the possibility that Will is the same as the person in that picture makes me feel like crazy already. Well, of course the one who was with me that day was William! It was Will, picking me up in the same car he has since I can recall. It was Will because we were laughing of the same private jokes we made. It was Will because... because he gave me that trip, those memories, because he knew that I needed that the most.

And know... just because I found a random picture I start to believe crazy stuff. But, well, I have always been the kind of person who likes to look things through different points of view. And the less-crazy idea could be this: maybe the guy in the picture is someone who just looks a lot like Will, and that's it.

Yep. That should be it. I should just believe that thought in my head so I could go back to sleep because I have class at 7AM.

But, I didn't.

Instead, I started to look up for all the hashtags of the same location of that beach and the same date where that picture was taken. It was truly easy, to be honest. At least 200 results popped up on my tablet's screen. I looked at every one of them, and the big difference is that now I actually paid attention to every fucking detail over all those pictures: their background, the people smiling on them and the people who were just passing by, accidents...

Until I found it. One picture with a lot of people. He was there again smiling, but this time his smile was looking directly to the camera, to whoever was taking the picture. All the other people next to me were total strangers (for me and my knowledge of William's friendships). But one thing was for sure: that was indeed William. Without a doubt. I could recognize that man anywhere, not matter what.

The problem here was the name tagged to the guy. It wasn't Wiliam. But Tate, instead.

With a damn private profile. So I can't really look more of his profile and pictures. Unless, of course, I send him a following request.

I sent it and immediately turn my tablet off, ready to go to sleep.

But of course, I can't.

*****

Early next day, I anxiously check my Instagram constantly, expecting to the request to be approved by that person. Yes, that is just the way I decided to call him.

But no answer yet.

I'm lying on the grass in one of my favorite gardens in my school, it's my free hour, and I have my cellphone raised over my head, my eyes looking up, when suddenly someone snatched my phone. It's him, William, I mean.