I can’t help but laugh at the excitement in his voice, a sound that makes me pine for him even more.

‘Relieved?’ I ask.

‘Extremely. How’s it been?’

‘Erm …’ I start. ‘Well, we still haven’t made it to Machu Picchu yet, we’re heading there today but the rest of it …’ I trail off, thinking about the days we’ve spent together.

‘No words?’

‘As if,’ I laugh, knowing he knows me better than that. ‘It was messy, smelly, emotional and fucking amazing. I have had the best time – a tough time, but a great time.’

‘I’m so pleased for you, Zaza,’ he says.

‘I can’t wait to get home and be back with you,’ I say.

‘Oh baby,’ he says, clearly taken aback. ‘I cannot wait.’

‘I love you, Liam.’

‘Snap, crackle and pop,’ he replies, making both of us giggle.

As we say our goodbyes the tenderness that’s been growing towards him grows a little more. As I’m about to put my phone away I notice a load of unopened messages have come through, mostly from Albie. I leave them that way, put my phone in my pocket and head to meet the others.

After being in a small group for most of the trip it feels strange to suddenly be with hundreds of people, all waiting to get on buses to our destination. There’s a feeling of cluelessness, of waiting to be ushered somewhere while surrounded by the rumbling of engines and the hissing of hydraulics. Once a bus is fully loaded it heads off, that’s as far as the organization seems to go, but it does happen very swiftly with doors flipping shut and wheels turning as soon as a bus is announced full, allowing another bus to arrive in its place.

Once it’s our turn to board Vicky and I manage to grab two seats together, meaning we clutch on to each other for the following thirty minutes thanks to the winding roads that seem far too narrow for this wide load to be on, let alone at the speed we’re travelling.

‘I don’t know how long I can stomach this for,’ Vicky groans, just as the bus zooms around another sharp corner of the zigzagged route, dodging oncoming traffic.

‘I would say close your eyes so you don’t have to look, but I think that’s even worse!’ I reply, having tried that technique moments before and having a wave of nausea hit as a result.

I do not want to be sick on this bus.

Thankfully we make it to the entrance gates of Machu Picchu after thirty minutes of questionable driving. We’re thrilled to be back on solid ground and out in the fresh air.

While we’re waiting for Scott to sort out our tickets a familiar sea of faces appears in front of us.