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As soon as she removes the helmet, Amethyst is laughing at her, jarring, husky, charming all at once, and Pearl flushes up to her ears.
“Your hair looks no better,” she says, a tad indignant, but it's a lie, and she likes the way that Amethyst’s hair cascades from her own helmet, tousled and wind-blown and dark as her eyes.
“Just how I like it,” is the shorter girl’s offhand response as she pointedly musses her head even further before taking Pearl’s hand and helping her off the bike.
When her feet touch the ground, she feels like she’s on a treadmill, like the ground is moving by beneath her, off-kilter, and Amethyst’s hand becomes something more like a lifeline.
Pearl staggers out a couple of steps before giving a shaky laugh.
“So,” she weaves thicker fingers in between her own and squeezes, “Do you take all the girls on a heart-stopping motorcycle ride up to the cliffside?”
“Pffftt, no ,” Amethyst swings their arms, her grin infectious and admittedly cute, “I'd be bored outta my mind doin' the same thing with more'n one girl.” She nudges Pearl with her hip. “I just really like this place, and I really like you— see , there's a correlation ."
Pearl figures that she’s blushing again, but probably not any more than Amethyst when her voice drops to a meeker level, and she asks, “Did you… like it?”
And it takes Pearl a good moment to answer because how does one put the sensation of their soul ascending into words? It was all of her senses working at once, in tandem, the feel of Amethyst’s hips under her hands and the incessant smell of exhaust; the salty sea air on her tongue, and the roaring engine ripping through the air in a manner so fulfilling that she felt it reverberating in her chest...
All in all, Pearl felt as though she were flying.
She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so free, so weightless, and there will be a time, she supposes, to tell Amethyst that being around her always gives her such a beautiful sense of that, but for now, she says just as quietly, “It was wonderful, Amethyst.”
Amethyst beams at her- and the warmth that blooms in her chest is unreal- and grips both of her hands, guiding her to the peak of the cliff.
“Then wait ‘til you check this out!”
And Amethyst guides her like they’re dancing, fingers linked together, yet Pearl’s back is to the edge. She’s facing Amethyst, whose eyes shimmer like the sea, who steps forward so Pearl steps back until she pulls Pearl in close, then twirls her around.
The first thing Pearl notices is how high they are. High enough that the vast expanse of rolling ocean below crashes into the cliffside with a noise so faint that it could be mistaken for music, and high enough that the wind roars in her ears, ruffling and churning and flapping the folds of her dress.
And it’s exhilarating . Astonishingly so. It gives her a literal sense of living on the edge, of being on top of the world, watching the day end with pinks and oranges and mauves in the sky, turning the sea purple, the sun burning a glowing pathway down the waves of water.
It goes on for miles.
“ Pretty cool, right P ?” Amethyst asks louder than necessary, so much so that her voice purposefully carries across the ocean in a raucous echo.
“It is,” Pearl replies, but it's too weak in comparison, nowhere as loud or enthused as she realizes she wants to be, so she says it again, “ It is !” until it resounds all around the cliff and back.
Amethyst snorts a laugh, looking mildly surprised, then shouts, “ Bomb-ass, ain’t it? ”
Pearl catches on, lets loose, and is positively screaming between her own giggles, “ Definitely !”
“ Gorgeous like your faaaace ?”
“Not anymore than yours!” Pearl quips back, a little more timid, but it still comes much easier than it would have if she wasn’t already laughing her face red.
Amethyst snickers with such vigor that her hair tumbles over her face, and Pearl worries briefly that Amethyst might slip over the edge until she realizes that she is most likely just trying to cover her flustered cheeks.
“Watch out, P, or I might forget how high-strung you usually are,” she jokes when she finally catches her breath, collapsing to sit in the scattered grass beneath them.
She raises her hand and Pearl takes it without a thought, letting herself be gently pulled into a sitting position beside her, legs dangling over the foot of the cliff.
“I know how to have fun,” she says with slight petulance, but Amethyst just hums and rests her head on Pearl’s shoulder.
Her hair tickles Pearl’s neck, and Pearl wills her heart to be still— tilts her head back to watch the glittering stars making their first appearance for the evening.
“It really is pretty,” is all Pearl can manage to murmur.
“Pretty place for a pretty girl,” Amethyst immediately murmurs back, and Pearl can’t help but snort because it's almost as though Amethyst purposely waits for an opportunity to shoot a corny line. “Wait, shit, I should've said ‘pretty pearl.’”
She's truly endearing.
Yet, in a slow, shy gesture, Amethyst’s fingers locate hers. “But anyway, that mean we can do this again real soon?” And then a tentative, “Or something like this?”
Something flutters in Pearl’s chest, and her face grows even warmer. Lightly, her thumb brushes across Amethyst knuckles. “I should be asking you that.”
“But I was the one who asked you out.”
“But I confessed first.”
Amethyst purses her lips. “Touche.”
“I’m glad though . . .” Pearl begins, face hot, eyes on her knees, “. . . that you did ask me out.” It had been a casual invitation, almost an afterthought, but the resultant elation that had filled her, she had only known once before.
“Yeah, well, it would've been rude to do nothing after you went and confessed your undying love to me,” Amethyst playfully responds, but it’s the sincerity in her gaze and the color on her cheeks that holds Pearl’s rapture.
Her eyes flicker down for a moment and she feels like she did then, just as apprehensive, but so full of yearning, and Amethyst hisses a grinning chuckle through her teeth before cupping her face in both her hands to pull Pearl down to her height.
Pearl melts against her kiss, against the soft, full lips, and electric fingers on her cheeks, and Amethyst’s warm, wavering breath when they part. Amethyst is still grinning, softer now, thumbing the freckles across Pearl’s face, and Pearl can feel herself smiling too, fingers curling in Amethyst’s hair.
Pearl kisses her again, on the lips, on the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her nose, and Amethyst whines, “Peaarl, you're gonna smother me,” but her arms loop around Pearl’s neck and holds her even closer, and Pearl thinks this feels like much more than just a first date.