NOVEMBER 26
I'm nervous about making pancakes this morning. I've made them every single Saturday for almost a year. I could make them in my sleep if I needed to, but I'm staring at myself in the mirror that sits on my desk.
I mess with my hair a couple times before I tell myself that my hands need to rest. Instead, my fingers graze my lips for a second.
I kissed Clay last night. The thought bounces around the walls of my brain, and it hasn't stopped since the moment it happened. I kissed him, and he kissed me back.
There are so many things that it could mean, but also so many things that it couldn't mean. It could've been a whim of one night, or it could've been months of build up. My heart races at the thought of it being either.
What would I do if I got turned down this morning? I imagine my cheeks burning up and everything going into a dark red or embarrassment.
What if everything wen the way I wanted it to? What if the past eight-ish months were completely worth it? That thought makes my heart rise then sink. I hate that Natalie comes to my mind. It hasn't been long at all, and I am not above ruling out the possibility of being a rebound. I would hate it and possibly Clay, but I wouldn't be surprised.
The house is quiet when I finally make it out of my room. I begin my Saturday morning routine. I set out a small bowl of chocolate chips for when the boys wake up before I get my bowl out of the cabinet. It's not actually my bowl, but I'm pretty sure I am the only one who uses it.
I just finished the batter and am about to make the first pancake of the batch when the door down the hall opens. The sound of feet dragging across the floor sounds before a second door, the bathroom I assume, opens and closes.
My breath hitches. I smooth my hair down before continuing my pancake routine. I focus on deep breaths, hoping that'll calm my heart rate a bit. It doesn't help much because the bathroom door opens once more.
Clay rounds the corner of the kitchen just like he does every single Saturday. This is normal, I remind myself.
"Morning," His voice is a bit deeper than usual, and the octaves somehow find their way to settle at the bottom of my stomach.
"Morning," I say, going with our usual Saturday routine. I will follow his lead.
He opens the fridge, scans it for a few seconds, then closes it again. He spins around, searching the whole kitchen before he grabs the bowl of chocolate chips off the counter. He pops a handful in his mouth before he's ready to sit down.
But then, he breaks the routine. Usually he would sit on one of the bar stools to eat the chocolate chips. Instead, he props himself up on the counter right by the stove, careful to not mess with my setup.
"Hi," he says once he settles.
"Hi." I flip my pancake before meeting his eyes. He's smiling as he eats another handful of chocolate chips, then he glances down at the bowl in his lap.
"Have you ever thought about the concept of chocolate chips?" he asks, inspecting one very closely.
I give him a look but smile. "No?"
"Why is it called a chip?" He squints like the answer will be written in tiny chocolate font. "Like a chip in the UK is a fry, but a chip in America is a chip."
I raise my brows. "Woah, a chip is a chip? Groundbreaking."
He rolls his eyes. "Shut up, you know what I meant."
YOU ARE READING
saturday mornings are for pancakes // a dream x reader fanfiction
Fanfiction"What are you doing in my kitchen?" he asks groggily as he makes his way over to the barstools. I laugh at the way he rubs his eyes. "Making pancakes." He squints up at me, hangover all over his face. "Why are you doing it so early in the morning?" ...
