*Delores Amelia Brown*

By the time we made it back to the hotel, the tour bus had already arrived and was parked in its usual spot at the entrance.

"Hey, glad you guys made it back on time." Dayton greeted me with a hug. "I was just about to call you."

"Did you get the bags?" Arturo asked, and Kwame nodded firmly.

"Yeah. The first bags they brought out weren't ours, so they had to search again and they found them."

"Including my bag?" Dayton asked.

"Yeah, Brain is having room service take them up right now," Kwame said, pointing in their direction.  

"Ok! It's time to leave, everyone!" Didi called out.

We all mounted the bus, with Dayton and I occupying our regular seats.

"So! How did your visit go?" I asked once we had settled in. "Did you see the fishing folk in action?"

"Yeah, and it was loads of fun," Dayton beamed. "You should have seen them. They have these local songs that they sing to get pumped up and ready for the day's activities, and it actually works. By the time they got their canoes and fishing gear ready, the men were all like a bunch of warriors, armoured and ready for battle. We tried learning a couple of their songs, but Arturo sounded too much like a quacking duck that I spent more time laughing than grasping the lyrics."

"What?" I chuckled. "Did you guys at least get any photos?"

"Yeah, tons! Here look." She pulled out her digital camera and turned it on. "We took these the moment we got on the canoe."

Her numerous shots displayed an array of local fishing activities. Shirtless men sat in canoes, stretching out long blue nets, while others steered their vessels. Photo after photo, it was as if I was witnessing everything that had happened on Dayton's camera. From the moment the fishermen set sail to their return with nets full of fish, both big and small, piled into storage barrels for transport to the local fishmongers.

"Arturo helped with the fishing?" I asked, smiling at a photo of him holding two large fish.

"Yeah. The local fishermen were very surprised when he caught those big boys. They even praised him for it."

I continued to glance through, making sure not to skip any photos. "Huh, it seems you really enjoyed yourselves, you and Arturo."

A hint of pink rose in Dayton's cheeks. "I can't lie, I really did. Arturo is a fun person to be around. I feel like I should get to know him more."

"Know him as in?" I handed her camera back to her.

"As more than a friend."

"Umm... are you sure about that?" I pushed a loose braid to the side. "I mean, it's only been two days since you met him."

"Yeah, I know. But I... I think it's high time I put myself out there, you know." Dayton bit her bottom lip, tilting herself towards me. "After I found out that I had chlamydia from my ex, I spent the longest time being celibate. I was so scared for my sexual health that I refused to date anyone for three years, even though I'd been cured. But now..." She paused, mulling over her words. "I dunno... I just feel that this is the time to put myself back into the dating game, and I wanna start with Arturo. If it doesn't work out, then..."

"It will work out, Dayton." I placed a gentle hand on hers. "Honestly, you are the most delightful person I have ever met in a long time. If Arturo doesn't see it, then he's a total ass."

"Delores!" Dayton laughed, and her phone rang, interrupting the moment. "Oh, my mum. Gotta take this."

"Sure."

As Dayton began her conversation, I turned back to the window, taking in the view of the city. A lot had happened today, a lot I didn't want to think about. But the more I tried to ignore it, the more it lingered in the back of my mind. That brief interaction with Kwame at the airport did a replay in my head. It didn't mean much to me at first. But his eyes... the way he looked at me...

God! I swore that I would never fall in love again. So why is this happening to me? Why now?

I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to relieve my facial muscles. It had barely been a year since I'd ended things with Cas, and though I was a hundred per cent sure that he'd moved on with someone else after hurting the shit out of me, I was still struggling to erase all those plans and promises we'd made together from my mind.

Cas didn't just ruin my life; he ruined my heart and impression of love. I needed a break from it all, so I chose to go on this trip: to forget that I just spent the last two years of my life trying to repair something beyond broken. I came here to live freely and have fun. Catching feelings for Kwame Asante wasn't an option and would never be. I came here to work, and that's what I'm gonna do.

Determined, I grabbed my bag and pulled out my phone, opening up the itinerary the Tourism Authority had emailed us.

Today marked day two of the festivities, and the organisers had scheduled visits to the city's numerous historical landmarks. Our first stop was the Kwame Nkrumah Mausoleum, and as the tour bus made it through the gates of the premises, I readied my camera.

The bus engine died down in the parking lot, and we all hopped off, joining our colleagues from the other tour buses.

"Ok, gather around, everyone!" Didi shouted. "Hope you're all ready for the task ahead because we've got a lot of history to unpack. We're currently standing on the burial grounds of Osagyefo Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, the very first president of Ghana. Everything about his life, tenure in office, and achievements are captured in this mausoleum. I will walk you through everything, so if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. Now, let's start with a brief stroll, shall we?"

With that, Didi turned, leading us down a wide pathway. A rectangular pool of water lined both sides of the path, with several copper-painted statues, kneeling and holding iron tusk-shaped horns to their lips. The pathway led to an even larger statue, covered in the same copper paint. But this time, the statue stood tall, pointing ahead with a stern look on his face.

"Ladies and gents, I present to you the statue of Osagyefo Dr. Kwame Nkrumah. He led and freed Ghana from British colonial rule in 1957, becoming an influential advocate for Pan-Africanism and one of the founding members of the Organisation of African Unity."

As Didi continued with the history, I stepped past the crowd, angling my camera for a better shot of the statue. I took a few more shots and grinned at the last one. The trees in the background and the rays of afternoon sunlight gave the photo a regal and strong appreciation of nature.

"Make sure you're controlling the aperture on those shots. There's an extensive amount of sunlight coming in."

Recognising the voice, I turned, meeting Kwame's gorgeous face, and I quickly stepped back, widening the space between us. Why the heck was he standing so close to me?

We were just a shoulder's width apart, and I couldn't stand the proximity, not when he had my heart thumping at the sound of his voice.

"Uh, thanks." I closed the camera. "I've been adjusting it by an eighth each time I take a shot."

"Great." He nodded, still standing beside me.

One quick glance at his frame, and I noticed that he hadn't taken his camera out of its bag. "You're not taking any photos?"

"Yeah, I'm familiar with the history here," he replied. "In 2014, I did a piece on Ghana's history for my studio."

"Oh, right. I keep forgetting that you were born here."

The other journalists began to move on, but Kwame and I stayed behind.

"Wait, so if you're familiar with everything here, why did you come with us on the tour?" I asked. "You could've just stayed in the hotel and ordered some room service."

"Nah, I didn't want to be hanging around alone when you guys are out here having fun. Plus, I enjoy being around you."

That last sentence took me by surprise, and I remained silent, pretending not to feel the flush of heat crawling up my cheeks. What is he doing to me?

Kwame must've felt uncomfortable with my silence because his next utterance came with an apologetic tone. "Uuh, I'm sorry if that made you feel awkward, I just thought--"

"Oh no, don't apologise. It's fine. I mean, I also enjoy being around you too so... yeah, it's cool," I smiled.

With a simple smile and a shadow of a dimple on one side of his cheek, the afternoon sunlight made the gentleman standing beside me even more handsome than he already was, which had to be some sort of sin because... how could someone this attractive be more attractive?

Kwame was making the very feelings I wanted to suppress blossom and sprout like wildflowers. And to be honest, it scared me to the core because the last thing I wanted was to go down the road of heartbreak a second time.

"Yo Chicago!"

We both turned.

Orell Smith stood behind the crowd of journalists, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Stop feeding her lies, would ya? We all know you're an amateur photographer!"

A number of his friends chuckled, and some heads shifted in our direction.

Kwame's hands balled into fists. "Why that dumbass--"

"No, no, no." I held him back. "Relax, he's not worth it."

Taking in my words, Kwame heaved out a breath and rubbed his temples. Dayton and Arturo broke away from everyone to join us at the rear.

"Hey, are you guys ok?" My blonde friend asked. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing. Orell was just being the usual asshole," I said.

"Ms. Brown and friends." Brian approached us. "Can we please keep up? The tour is moving."

"Right."

My entourage quickly joined the crowd, and this time, we made sure that all four of us stayed together throughout the length of the tour.

******