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I smile and then look over at Suzie, who hasn’t even realised they’ve gone and is continuing her manic rooftop dance, the fairy lights catching her hair swinging around her face.

I’m not sure what to do. Do I join in? I’m not sure whether to show her that I’m a bit of a shit dancer too.

She finally looks over and around, confused that she seems to be alone.

‘Where did everyone go?’ she says, coming over to me, glowing with perspiration, her cheeks rosy from the sangria.

‘Bed, I think,’ I reply. ‘It’s been a long day.’

She drags over a plastic white chair and sits opposite me. ‘Look at us matching in our T-shirts.’

‘We look good in teal,’ I say.

‘Keeping it real in teal, like a Spanish seal who is très gentil,’ she says, half rapping, putting her hands into strange positions.

I laugh, watching her shoulders continue to dance in time to the music. ‘You are arseholed.’

‘I’m not!’ she says, offended. ‘I’m on holiday, it’s kind of allowed.’

‘Except it’s kind of work.’

She shrugs. ‘You’re drunk too. This sangria is 11.5 per cent so if you’re not drunk, you’re lying.’

I will admit this is the reason I’ve stayed seated. If I got up, I may have just fallen over like a felled tree. ‘How are those bed bug bites?’ I ask her, looking down at her ankle.

‘Surprisingly numb. Either that or the bed bugs are now a part of me,’ she makes a face that I think is supposed to resemble a bed bug, putting her fingers to the top of her head like antennae, sucking her lips in.

I laugh because I’m inebriated but because she really is quite funny. ‘Don’t do that, you’re giving me trauma from that crab we met before,’ I tell her.

She laughs, her body curled around that seat and the light hitting her face perfectly. ‘Do you want to hear my best crab joke?’

‘You have a best crab joke?’ I ask.

‘What did the crab call his daughter? ’

‘I don’t know.’ Yet I think I have an idea.

‘Michelle,’ she says, laughing, her nostrils flaring. It’s only funny because she’s laughing so much as she says it. So much so that she falls off her chair. I double over laughing with her as she lies on the floor, unable to control herself.

‘Is it bedtime?’ she says, putting her hands out for me to pull her up.

I think it might be. Don’t fall over, Charlie.

As we pull each other up to standing, our bodies bounce and press against each other.

Normally, that sort of action would lead to tension, a moment of intensity where we’d be drawn into each other, searching for a kiss.

Instead, we both still seem to be in hysterics, her hands around my neck, me laughing so uncontrollably that I let out a little snort.

This makes us laugh even more. We stumble to the stairs, draped around each other, Suzie giggling then putting a finger to her lips.

‘You’ll wake the children,’ she whispers.

‘Ssssshhh,’ I say.

I slip on a stair and catch myself just in time on the handrail.

She comes down to help me, hooking her hands under my arms. We venture down the corridor, her creeping like she’s a Grinch as I try to hold on to the wall to control myself.

When we walk past Mark’s room, the effort of not laughing might kill us though.

As from beyond his hostel room door, we can hear sounds.

Sex sounds. And a bit of light slapping?

‘C’mon, Jackie. Give it some welly…’

Suzie falls to the floor, rolling around, tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks, while I almost have to crawl past the door, like a bloody army soldier undercover.

By the time we get to our room, we can hardly communicate for fear of being heard, and our faces are a shade of lilac.

I fumble with the key to let us into the room and we roll in, not totally wasted, just warm and fuzzy, in a state where everything is fucking funny.

I stumble to the bed and lie there face down, watching the gauzy white curtain float and dance in the low lights of the room.

Suzie stands by the doorway. This is when she should slide over and make her move, isn’t it?

But instead she dances over, her hands make cycling motions to a song I can’t hear.

It’s not sexy and we both know it. I giggle and she falls into the bed, next to me, resting her head on my shoulder.

We lie there on the mattress, taking in the twilight, and catching a breath.

‘It’s been a good day, Charlie,’ she tells me.

‘It has,’ I say, putting my arm around her. ‘I think you peaked with your bed bug impression.’

‘My favourite bit was the part where the Korean lady filmed you going down on me in the park,’ she mentions.

‘I did nothing of the sort. I just slipped and found myself there,’ I tell her.

‘So clumsy. I’m glad I was there to break your landing,’ she says, and again we burst into laughter. She puts a hand over mine and interlocks her fingers. ‘We had sex before.’

‘In the shower…’ I remind her.

She cups her hands over her mouth as we both bring the memory of it back into view. Thinking of a movement so fluid, the water flowing down her cleavage, the sound of her moaning in my ear. I am not sure it would look like this if we attempted it now.

‘Are we too drunk for this, Charlie?’ she asks. ‘I don’t want to take advantage.’

‘I’m fine. There was fruit in the sangria. So basically it was just like fancy squash.’

‘Vitamin water, really,’ she continues. ‘I might be a bit…’ she says, putting her hands out in different shapes like she’s still dancing.

‘Handsy? I would encourage that.’

‘I would too!’ she says excitedly.

We both grin and then there’s a moment where we look at each other and just find ourselves.

Her lips search for mine and we laugh, in between smiles.

As I pull her T-shirt over her head, she gets tangled up and it covers her face like a veil.

‘Can we just do it like this?’ she says, a head of teal staring back at me and I laugh again.

I kick off my shoes and they fly across the room knocking over a bottle of water that I apologise to, of course.

And then we kiss, balancing our bodies out on that single mattress, lying there together, desperately trying to unclothe ourselves, me doing some weird dolphin kick to get rid of my boxers and her using her feet to move her knickers down towards her ankles.

And there are elbows in the way, a point where I find an especially ticklish spot on the underside of her upper arm and kisses that involve way too much tongue but I like it all, the messiness of it.

I then balance off the edge of the bed to find a condom in my backpack, tearing the wrapper off with my teeth, lying back to put it on. She starts humming to pass the time as I pull the rubber over my sheath.

‘Are you singing…’

‘Lady Gaga? I think I am,’ she giggles, turning to face me, propping her head up with her hand. ‘You scrunch your face up when you’re concentrating,’ she says mimicking me.

I nudge her with my elbow and she giggles before kissing me and slowly manoeuvring over me, angling her body to glide on to me but then sitting up and then bumping her head on the upper bunk.

She laughs and falls into me and we both lie there just wrapped up in each other.

And this is not what I imagined. As I roll her over and she opens her legs a little wider, she looks at me and puts a hand through my hair.

And I’ll admit, I didn’t imagine sex with her looked like this.

Back in the summer, I always thought the sex we’d have again would play like a movie.

A roll around on a sunswept beach, the light hitting us at the right angles and orgasms in slow motion, like they’re under a filter.

This isn’t perfect. It’s messy and unrehearsed.

Damn it, it feels a little sloppy. Moments of unfettered pleasure coupled with a very real laughter.

I put her arms over her head and run my tongue along her neck.

‘I like this,’ I mumble into her ear, thrusting deeply into her, witnessing her arousal in the shapes of her back and mouth.

Her lips taste like sweet red wine. Her eyes look deeply into mine. Searching.

‘Yeah. It’s OK, isn’t it?’

‘OK?’

‘C’est magnifique…’ she whispers.

And there’s a feeling in my chest that’s not some burning, aching passion that’s fiery and uncontrollable.

It’s something I feel deep in my body, a warmth running through my veins, a feeling like everything around me is glowing.

It could be sangria or maybe it’s me getting swept up in this, falling. In love.

In you. And just you. Suzie. Not that other French girl I knew once. God, I can’t even remember her name.