"If I may ask, what is your last name Maya?"

"Adade. My parents are from Ghana. They named me after this woman, Maya Angelou."

"Ah...the poet?"

"You've heard of her?"

"Still we rise." He quotes.

I turn my head not to let him see me squirm. Were seated outside of a cafe, with a view of the park across the busy streets. It was a lucky day, the late summer still had some heat, however from my previous days of suffering I've known not to gamble with my clothing anymore. I wore jeans and a brown leather jacket, unintentionally matching Francecso's outfit, except for the fact that he wore dark sunglasses adding mystery to his already timid nature.

"And what are you majoring in, Miss Adade?"

I chuckle at the unexpected remarke of my name. "Technical communication and illustration. It's like design, but for mechanics."

"So you're an engineer?"

"More or less. I'm able to work with engineers, draw out the technical designs, but that's as far as it goes. How about you, what do you do?"

"Me?" He said almost appalled. "Didn't Francecsa tell you about me?"

"No." I snort.

"I travel." He said, gesturing vigorously with his hands.

"Like a nomad?" I frown.

"Not exactly." He smiles. "I like to go by train, sometimes by bus. I've only been around Euroupe but where I really want to go is South America, I have some friends over there."

"Impressive." I whistle. "I could never imagine myself making that journey by myself."

"Me neither." He winks. "That's why I make sure to make good friends along the way."

My body tense as I feel his foot look for mine underneath the table. I let out a slow breath as he only goes to nudge it.

My phone rings and as I look to the display Francesca's name occupies the screen.

"It's your sister."

Francesco leans back in his chair. I watch as he studies me, his eyes traveling up and down behind his dark glasses.

"Hello....Yes...Uhm....I'm with your brother actually....yes, I found him at the apartment...seven-thirty?...sure we'll be there....I'll talk to you later then."

"What did she want?" He asks me, when I shuffle my phone back into my purse.

"Your sister told me that she has a gig at this pub downtown. She asked if perhaps we wanted to go?"

"And what did you say?" He asks curiously, although I'm sure he overheard the conversation occurring right in front of him.

"I said we'd be there at seven-thirty. Until then..."

"Great!" Francesco jolted as he rose to his feet. That's like five hours from now, what should we do until then?"

"Actually, I have some errands to run." I said, resuming my interrupted words. "I'm a bit behind since my little fall out last week."

"What kind of errands?" He asks, not one bit withdrawn by the fact that I hinted to leave him.

"School related, family related, all kinds of errands really."

"Great, I'll help you." He said, not really offering.

"Really, you'd do that?"

"Yes, this way I can see the city, not as a tourist but as...well you."

I chuckled as I too rose to my feet.

"And then we'll go to the pub and see my sister, together."

Together, I like how those words smoothly roll off his tongue. "Well then." I annonce. "Let me show you this city through my eyes."

"Well then." Francesco imitates. "Let's go." For comedic purposes he stretches his arm towards me. For a second I am reluctant, but eventually we're walking down the street, arm and arm.

******

"....I'm sure if you hadn't insisted on taking a picture with the ducks in the pond, we wouldn't have gotten splashed by that kids RC speedboat."

"So it's my fault?"

"Yes." I turn to say. "Look at me and you for that matter, we're soaking wet."

"Don't laugh." I sigh as Francesco's lips break into an appealing smile.

"Is there a shopping mall nearby?"

"It's this way." I groan.

Through the dressing room curtains at Old Navy, I peek through to see how Francesco inspects the lens of his camera, checking it for water damages. Water drips from his wet curls and the black leather jacket is now tied around his waist. A white t-shirt reveals a set of lean muscles as well as a some kind of native mask tattoo going up the sleeve of his left arm. I bite my lip as I force myself to stop peeking. Instead I turn to the dressing room mirrors, all four of them uncovering my shape. In here there is no were to hide. I'd say that with my recent illness I have lost a few kilograms, nevertheless I remain a curvaceous woman. My belly tucks gently underneath the pencil skirt I've decided to try on for some reason. A black turtleneck slims my body, slightly curving gently around my big bust. I'd say this is a perfect example of a balanced fashion choice. I go to open the curtains to ask Francesco to hand me my leather jacket that would go well with these clothes. Suddenly I am met by a peculiar stare.

"What?" I shrug. The pupils in the island of his green eyes remained expanded as he watched me pause in front of him.

"Errr...you look..."

"I do?" I said, without needing him to finish his sentence. I knew I looked good. "It's for tonight" I said, swingin my braids with the imaginary wind.

"How about you wear that now, out of the store." And with a quick flash he took my picture.

"Hey!" I gasped. "I did not give you my permission to take a photo of me."

"I needed permission?" He smirks.

"Always."

"Sorry. Usually when I see something beautiful I try to capture it fast."

"Before the beauty runs away?" I said sarcastically, ignoring the fact that he called me beautiful in the most cliché way.

"Yes, but I imagine you always look this beautiful." Another flash as he takes another picture.

"Hey!"

"Sorry." He murmurs, clearly not sorry. Another snap as he retakes my picture, however this time I saw it coming and managed to flip him off.

Looking up from the camera he wears a surprised expression, as if I didn't have it in me to flip him off.

"Pose." He said, returning his eyes to the lens.

"Like this?" I said, bending my back slightly, promiscuously pouting my lips.

"Yes, just like that."

"Are you serious?" I straighten my back.

Returning from the camera he makes sure to wink at me. "Have fun with it."

"Fun with it?" I frown. However once the camera begins to snap, I fall into character and bring out my best Naomi Campell poses, sucking in my cheeks in order to look thinner, twisting my arms awkwardly around my face. And with every snap, Francesco encourages me to do more, to be bolder than I really am. I fall for it, the challenge and slowly but surely I feel myself fall for him, the eye behind the lens, capturing a beauty I only thought I had within.

I managed to snach the camera away from him, but before I managed to figure out how to take a picture of my own, the store manager offered to escort us out of the store, saying people in the dressing rooms behind us were beginning to feel uncomfortable by the unwanted paparazzi. Francesco is the one to make the heartfelt apology and with his Italian accent even the store manager couldn't prevent herself from melting. We left the shopping mall content with what we've gotten out of it.

"What time is it?" Francesco sighs, kneeling to rest on the concrete steps leading up to the marvelous shopping center. Joining him on the steps I tell the time. Three hours still remain before it is time to head towards the pub.

"Should we run some more errands?" He said. "Do you even have more errands?"

"Only one, but before that I need you to wait for me here."

"What? You're abandoning me here? I'm a stranger in this city."

"Ha ha." I taunt. In the back of my head there roams an idea that I really want to pursue.

Returning to the concrete steps where he was sitting, I reached into my purse and handed him some bills. "Buy us something soft to drink, by the time you come back I'll be right here waiting for you." I turned around and crossed the street before he managed to protest.