I give him a weak smile. "Mhmm. What was the pastry for?"
"Vanilla slices," he says. "Have you made them before?"
I shake my head.
"The recipe is over there. But if you want to make something else, then we can, I haven't baked it yet."
"Vanilla slices are good." Mostly because I don't really know what else to do with myself when I'm still full of questions. Other than ask them. I suppose that's the only thing I can do.
"All right, well I'm going to get the pastry ready while you read the recipe," he says as he leaves to collect the pastry from the ice house.
Even though I'm supposed to be focusing on the recipe, all I can really think about is how things are between us, and how there are things I need to know before I tell him how I feel.
Nate returns, and I watch him under my eyelashes as I pretend to read. The muscles in his arms flex as he rolls out the pastry, and I find myself wondering whether Camille likes watching him do this too.
I let out a groan. This is not going to be good.
"Are you all right?" Nate asks as he moves two squares of pastry onto a baking sheet and weighs them down with another on top. He takes it over to the oven and slides it in, flipping over a timer with the ease of someone who has done this many times.
"I have some questions," I say. "They're playing on my mind a bit."
"About the vanilla slices?"
"No. I mean, I do have a question about the vanilla slices. Are we really not cooling the custard before we put it on top of the pastry?"
"It sets too quickly to let it cool, so we put it on while it's still hot. You'll see."
I nod. "All right."
"So, what was your question?" he prompts.
"It's about Camille."
"Oh."
"Well, not really about Camille. I suppose kind of about what you had with her." I'm already making a mess of this, but I can't seem to help it.
"I see." He leans back against the counter. "What do you want to know?"
"Have you had a...friendship...like that before?" I chew on the inside of my lip and try to resist the urge to fiddle with my dress. He'll know immediately that it means I'm uncomfortable, and I don't think I can deal with the questions that would raise.
"No. That's the only time."
I frown. "Have you courted anyone?"
"No," he responds slowly. "Where is this going?"
I think for a moment, realising that I can't tell him that I'm trying to work out how I feel about him, especially when he says he's in love with someone. "I'm trying to work out how I feel about sex," I respond.
He clears his throat and looks away from me for a moment. "I didn't realise it was something you struggled with," he mumbles.
I sigh. "I don't think I experience it like other people do," I admit. "Veronica says that sometimes she just wants sex, or wants to have sex with someone in particular."
"But you don't?" There's a hint of curiosity in his voice, and he looks at me properly again, though there's a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks still.
"No," I respond. "I hadn't even really thought about it until a couple of years ago, but then Veronica got me thinking about it."
He raises an eyebrow. "Your sister?"
