Page 11 of Our Secret Moments

Her face scrunches up. “Your baking looks like death inside a Tupperware container.”

One thing about Nora? She knows exactly where your weak spots are and how to poke them. “Mom ate one,” I say, desperately trying to justify the fact that they look inedible.

Nora laughs. “That’s because she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings,” she says sweetly, giving me that older sister – by eleven minutes – glare. “Watch,” she says, moving towards the white kitchen wall that connects with the living room. “Dad, do you want a cookie?”

“Ooh, yes,” my dad replies, his voice clear with excitement. I give Nora a sarcastic smile. She’s such a know-it-all sometimes and it pisses me off.

“Connor made them,” she shouts back, a smug smile on her face.

“You know what? On second thought, I’m good,” my dad replies and my heart sinks. Am I reallythatbad at baking? “I don’t want to fill up too much before dinner.”

My sister holds her chin high, doing her famous exit which she’s practised over a million times growing up.

I look back down at my apparently undesirable cookies and shove one into my mouth. They can’t be that bad.

They somehow taste even worse than they did this morning. Still, I force myself to eat it because nobody else will.

I love coming home to my perfectly imperfect family.

FIVE

CAT

FREE-FALLING AND FOOTBALLERS

After my mini-meltdownwhen I found out my grade, I was feeling on top of the world the whole weekend. I treated myself to a day full of reality TV and a huge pizza to share with the girls, followed by a morning sitting in the corner of my favourite cafe with a hardback classic book in my hands.

For once I don’t want that feeling to go away. I don’t want to constantly think about what's next. I just want to take every new assignment with more passion than the last. Anything can become a story, it just takes the right amount of love, patience and effort to make it a good one.

Elle and Nora both work part-time at the bookstore a few blocks away from campus. It’s a dainty indie store packed away into an alley full of vintage shops. Some people know it as a hidden gem, but since we started coming here years ago, it’s been our favourite space and now both of them have jobs there, it’s even better.

BoBo’sonly has three aisles and multiple comfortable chairs that lay in various places of the room. Its entire vibe is Autumn and dark earth tones. No matter what time of year it is, it justfeelslike a warm, safe hug and a cup of a pumpkin flavoured drink.

I slip through the wooden door, instantly soothed by the warmth and the smell of books. I run my hand over the box of one-dollar books by the door, loving the fact that most of these have been donated.

I’m not exactly sure what I came here for, but I needed something to do before class and luckily Elle is on the morning shift since she has no classes until the late afternoon. She left before I woke up and in comparison to Nora’s chaos, she’s a lot calmer.

My eyes meet hers over the counter and my face immediately breaks into a smile. Elle is one of those people who know what’s wrong without you having to say something. She’s also one of those people that would never make a scene in a restaurant, but has this quiet, harsh authority to her tone that can make any server quake in their boots.

“You’re in a good mood,” Elle points out, leaning on the counter in her green shirt with a tinyBoBo’slogo on the pocket. “Still on an academic high?”

“Always,” I say, scanning the bookmarks on display.

She laughs a little. “You’re one of the weirdest people I know. I’m convinced you get hot and bothered over grades and books more than you do over men.”

“Why bother with porn when books exist?” I say, shrugging. I was exposed to ‘smutty’ books and Wattpad way too young. It’s not my fault I’m wired this way. Okay… maybe it is. “Nothing gets me going more than ink on paper.”

“You and me both,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “What are you looking for? Some new Emily Henry copies came in yesterday.”

My heart expands at the name of my favourite author. Reading Emily Henry books with the girls is probably whatsolidified our bond in our first year of college. Not to be dramatic, butBeach Readchanged our lives.

We’ve always been huge book lovers and when we picked up her book for the first time, we’ve not been the same since. She conveys words, thoughts, feelings and emotions in a way that is so incredibly true to the soul and the mind that you can’t help but get transfixed within her writing.

We have a dedicated section just for her books in our bookshelf and whenever we go book shopping, we immediately draw out her books, leaving notes slipped inside the pages so readers know exactly what they’re getting into.

“I’d love another copy, but I don’t think my book buying ban would like that,” I sigh, hitching my tote further up my shoulder. I’ve got to draw the line for my obsession somewhere.

“I respect that,” she says solemnly as if this is a meeting of Book Buyers Anonymous. “I’ve got to start putting books out, so I’ll see you later?”

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