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I head over to the window and peer out on to the street.

The kids eventually crashed and with any luck they’ll sleep in.

Outside, the twilight hangs in the air, a few cyclists and people shuffling up and down the cobbles, a cooler air sweeping through the window that is mildly refreshing.

One thing I always liked about Seville was that the sun rose and set late so it felt like the day was framed perfectly.

I slid out of bed about half an hour ago to calm myself down in the shower.

Is this because I woke up with a raging hard-on?

Yes. And it didn’t feel like the ideal way for her to wake up, feeling that in her back, thinking I’m obsessed with sex.

I’m just obsessed with her. Enough to want her to wake up comfortably and not feeling mortified that she left my forearm sticky with her saliva.

I hope this works. I hope she won’t hate me in a few seconds. I squat down next to the bed. ‘Suzie? Suzie?’

‘Huh, shit. What is it? Is it the children? Are they still fucking up?’ she moans.

I laugh as she tries to clear the hair from her face, a line of dried drool leading down from her right lip.

‘Maybe we can call the police and they can just arrest them all,’ she says, her eyes still closed.

‘Is it my turn to go and patrol the halls?’

‘No…it’s about seven in the morning.’

She still hasn’t opened her eyes. ‘Then why are we up? I thought breakfast wasn’t until nine.’

‘I had an idea,’ I say, bending over and kissing her elbow, the one curled and supporting her face.

‘You’re a morning sex person, aren’t you?’ she mumbles. ‘I like you but I also like sleep. Come back to bed. ’

The invitation is tempting but I’m hoping she might be open to the alternative too. She stretches out in bed and I see a slice of stomach and the curve of her pelvic bone as she does. She picks at the corners of her eyes. ‘I must look a state?’ she says sheepishly.

‘It’s just a bit of sleepy dust…’ I say.

‘What did you call it?’ she says, smiling.

‘What do you call it?’

‘Eye bogeys,’ she says, laughing.

‘That’s…’

‘Gross?’ We both laugh as she smacks her gums together, trying to wake up. ‘What was this grand idea then that involves us being up at this ungodly hour?’ she asks, finally opening her eyes.

‘Fancy a walk?’

‘Did you just say walk or wank?’ she says, smiling. ‘I’m still half asleep.’

‘Walk…’

She finally focuses enough to look me in the eye, cradling my chin, kissing me gently on the forehead. ‘Just so you don’t have to smell my morning breath,’ she tells me. ‘Will this walk involve coffee?’

‘It will.’

‘Then let’s do it.’

‘Eres más feo que una nevera por detrás,’ I say, as we walk along the banks of the Guadalquivir river. ‘Which means you’re uglier than the back of a fridge.’ She bends over laughing, cradling her coffee. ‘You asked me about my favourite Spanish phrase and that is it…I learned it here.’

Having Suzie beside me on the cobbles, making her laugh, being able to hold her hand feels intensely right.

It reminds me of our first moments together in Mallorca, but this feels a bit more like a date rather than the stars pushing us together.

This feels like it’s on our terms. She’s also wearing knickers and I have a shirt on which helps settle the mood a little.

Suzie wears her hair in a ponytail, teaming it with a short denim skirt, a white camisole top, her red trainers and a light white shirt that she leaves open.

If anything, this feels like a date in disguise and I can’t stop from grinning widely, hoping this isn’t putting her off.

I bite into one the pastries we picked up on the way here, licking the icing sugar off my lips.

The river is still, the palms painting dark silhouettes into the sky.

On the other side, the brightly coloured buildings are illuminated by the streetlights.

There’s still a warmth to the streets, even without the sun in the sky, and there’s the promise of heat ahead when it comes up.

Cars and mopeds speed past us as the city starts to stir slowly.

‘And it was just the one year you were here?’ she asks me.

‘Ten months in the end, they let me finish those last two months in London.’

‘How come?’ she asks.

I pause. ‘It was around the time my parents passed away so I had to go back. Extenuating circumstances.’

She’s quiet, pensive. We’ve not spoken like this before. We’ve dealt in banter and surface talk that hasn’t really been that meaningful I guess. ‘You did explain it briefly once. I am sorry you had to go through that. I will assume it was unexpected?’

‘Car crash,’ I say, not before sipping my coffee to not have to think about it too much. It’s quite hot and scalds my tongue. ‘After that, life took a pretty sharp turn. Sam was only ten at the time so I…’

‘Did a truly amazing thing…’ she tells me.

I don’t reply immediately because I hear that phrase a lot.

Mainly from relatives, Sam’s teachers at school and Enzo at the Italian on the high street, but the truth of the matter is that I wouldn’t have not done it.

And it’s an impossible job to be a sibling and a ps eudo-parent.

We eat a lot of omelettes and pasta because my cooking still isn’t great and I let them on their phones too much.

I have no idea if I’m getting any of it right. ‘Tell me about them, your siblings.’

I veer off the path of the riverbank and get her to cross a road for me, back towards the city.

‘Max is twenty-three. He’s an electrician, he’s very loyal, occasionally a tool but in the best possible way.

’ She laughs. ‘Brooke is last year of college and wants to go to university to study psychology, she’s loud and argumentative but a heart of gold.

And Sam is big on skateboarding and a really good artist. He’s a kind, soulful kid. I wish he’d wash his hair more.’

She remains quiet, giving me the space to speak, nodding thoughtfully, and I wonder if this is scaring her off, quelling all those flames of desire to hear my life laid out like this. But maybe it’s important she knows everything about me.

‘And Max is the stag?’ she asks me.

‘Yeah, he’s marrying a woman called Amy. I know it’s young to be getting married. Twenty-three. I worry about that sometimes but they’re cute together. She’s good for him. I think it works.’

Again, she’s quiet but continues walking next to me as we enter the gates to a park, the walkways still dimly lit in the twilight. ‘So being a teacher? Was that your decision or…?’ she asks me.

‘It fit in with my degree, my life at home. It turns out I’m not awful at it,’ I reply. ‘What about you? Your family?’

She pauses. ‘It’s just me. No siblings. My mum passed away seven years ago. I never really knew my dad. All I have really are my cousins.’

‘Beth and the famous cousins. I know them,’ I say, trying to show her I’m listening, that I care. ‘I’m very sorry about your mum. ’

‘Well, you know what it’s like? To lose a parent, an anchor of sorts. She was a wonderful woman, I miss her a lot.’

I reach over and hold her hand, giving it a light squeeze, my heart swelling to know exactly what she means. I try to read her vibe as we walk; she seems serious, even a little sad as we walk past heavy metal railings and grand white buildings that shine through the twilight. ‘And why teaching?’

‘I had some vague naive notion that I could make a difference. Now I think it just fuels my stationery fetish. I make a mean flashcard,’ she says.

She doesn’t offer more. We cross a final road towards the Parque de María Luisa, dodging scooters and cyclists.

Beyond the park gates, a long sandy walkway extends beyond us lined with trees, the sort of dark green tropical plants that always make you feel you’re miles away from England. ‘You do know where we’re going, yeah?’

Literally, yes. I don’t know in the other sense of the word. I nod. ‘This is my favourite place in Seville.’

‘Why?’ she asks.

I smile but I don’t tell her. It’s pretty, for sure, but the truth is my parents came out to visit me while I was here and this is the spot where I took my last photo with them. ‘You’ll see.’

I glance over at her, still sipping her coffee and I can’t read how she’s feeling.

We could have been having quiet morning sex in a bunk bed in a hostel; instead I went for the option where I just spilled my guts to her, telling her all about my complicated life journey.

I am miles away from that brooding Carlos who swaggered into her life.

It’s just me, Charlie. Clutching a bag of pastries, wearing my New Balance that my seventeen-year-old sister brought me because she says my taste in trainers is cheugy.

We continue walking past the trees lining this path, past early-morning joggers and a few tourists with big cameras until the buildings start to come into view. She stops and stands there for a moment taking it in. ‘Plaza de Espana,’ she says, under her breath.

I used to come here a lot because it was so regal and magnificent, and one of those places where you can remind yourself the world is bigger than that small suburb of London you grew up in.

It’s the way the ornate stone building sweeps around the plaza, the cavernous arches, the patterns on the stone courtyard before it, the way a canal sits in front of it, still and dotted with Venetian style bridges, adorned with mosaic and glazed ceramic features.

She walks up to a parapet, placing her hands on the stone as I watch her.

I like seeing her reaction in her eyes, the wonder and shock.

‘We’re supposed to be coming here later,’ she says.

‘I know, I just thought it would be nicer to see it without fifty kids in tow.’ I look down at my watch as the sky starts to lighten, the streetlamps surrounding the canals turn off and, just like magic, the sun peeks through over the top of the buildings.

It casts the whole place in an amber glow.

I turn to look at Suzie. Is that a tear in her eye?

She reaches down for my hand, our fingers grazing past each other, the softest of touches until she turns to me, facing me, her eyes scanning the outline of my face.

Our faces are barely touching but she closes her eyes, breathing gently.

Yes, this was planned. Waking her up early, walking her over here, looking up the sunrise times so we’d be here at just the right moment.

I wanted us to have some time to talk, to understand each other, to not let the heat consume us.

Our lips finally meet and the feel of them pressed against me is surprisingly soft. She tastes like icing sugar.

I cup her face with two hands, the energy building as she presses herself against me, my hands moving down to her waist, and, with the light of the sun behind us, it feels like electricity.

She stops to catch her breath, her eyes closed.

Then she looks over her shoulder. The plaza is still relatively quiet, a few tourists milling around.

I know what she’s thinking. She looks out to the park, taking my hand, and leads me down a sandy pathway, until we’re hidden away by bushes and a stone gazebo draped in greenery.

We smile at each other. We can’t do this back at the hostel, not in the way we want.

But this might work. She goes to kiss me again and I move my hands to her lower back, taking her shirt in my clenched fists.

I remember this feeling so well, so intimately.

I back her into one of the pillars and move my kisses lower across her neck and stomach, reaching down to her skirt until I’m on my knees, my hands reaching around to her butt, reaching to press her against my face, moving her knickers to one side, to taste her.

‘THAT IS A SUCH A LOVELY TREE!’ she suddenly shouts. At first, I wonder if she’s talking about my erection but then she leapfrogs over me, leaving me on my knees. ‘I think it might be a…what tree is that?’

I look around swiftly and then turn again, pretending to tie a shoelace that I don’t have.

Shit. I need to stand up. ‘It looks like an oak, darling? Maybe a…beech?’ I don’t know anything about bloody Spanish trees but I do know a group of very curious Korean tourists stand in front of us.

They wear broad-rimmed hats and carry selfie sticks.

A tour guide looks at us and shakes her head, smirking.

‘Y pensabais que la temperatura solo iba a subir más tarde.’ I shake my head at her, chuckling, as the group walk past us, one lady taking a picture of me.

I’m hoping she didn’t take that at an angle that lit up my semi.

Suzie turns around, her face in her hands. ‘Oh my god, oh my god,’ she says, resting her head against me. ‘What did she say?’

I put an arm around her. ‘And you thought it was going to get hot later in the day…’

And she laughs, this full-bellied loud laugh that rings around the park and makes a few pigeons fly away, and I laugh back, holding her next to me as the sun starts to make its ascent and the sky shines bright blue around us.