saturday mornings are for pancakes // a dream x reader fanfiction

CHAPTER 67: BUCKET LISTS

NOVEMBER 16

ELEVEN MONTHS IN NEW YORK

I didn't sleep at all. I laid in my bed for a while, but counting sheep never paid off. Then, I decided that maybe doing something productive would tire me out. I washed the dishes. Folded my laundry. Cleaned the bathroom. And I still couldn't sleep.

y/n

Are you awake?

Clay

Yeah, you?

I laughed to myself and pressed the call button. "Why would I text you if I was sleeping?" I ask when he picks up.

"I don't know." Clay's voice is deeper from the lack of sleep. "I was just trying to keep the conversation flowing, you know?"

I roll my eyes. "There's other conversation starters."

"Yet that one got me a phone call."

"You're ridiculous," I mutter.

"What are you doing besides not sleeping?" he asks. I hear rustling as if he's sitting up.

"Currently cleaning my kitchen." I spray some cleaner on the counters before wiping them down with a rag. "Very interesting stuff."

"It's six in the morning." Clay emphasizes this with a yawn. "Why in the world are you cleaning the kitchen?"

"Well, I already got my bathroom done."

"You have problems."

"And a clean apartment," I point out, "What are you up to?"

"Before you called I was considering world domination," he replies.

"And how's that going?" I ask, moving onto the sink.

"I haven't figured out the North Pole yet." His voice is slow and tired. "But other than that, we're doing great."

"Santa got you all mixed up?"

"It's the flying reindeer," he jokes, "They complicate things."

I'm about to ask him to elaborate on his plan, but I can tell he's nearly asleep. I finish wiping down the sink and am about to put the dirty rag with the dirty laundry. I notice there's a string hanging from it, and I frown.

I try my best to be quiet because I'm sure Clay is about to be asleep. I open up my kitchen drawer to find scissors. I cut the thread and place the rag in the dirty basket.

"y/n," Clay mumbles, "I think I'm going to go to bed."

"Okay," I whisper now, "Goodnight."

"Night," he says before hanging up.

I put the scissors back in the drawer when I notice Maggie's brochures buried at the bottom. I haven't touched these in so long.

I read over the scribbles and the bucket lists that we had for New York City. Then the one we had for Italy. And Scotland. And Paris.

I thumb back to the New York one, though. I read the simple tasks of go to the statue of liberty, visit the library, eat the best pizza in the city

I start to think. I've done almost everything on this list while I was here in New York, but these alone haven't given me the New York experience I've fallen in love with. I should've added to her list of things like become a regular at a coffee shop, eat cheap pizza at one in the morning, read on a park bench to the sound of crunching fall leaves.