Precocious Shouldn't Be A Color
It was when Pinkie tried to spin him, —muzzles brushing, chests touching— the low pitch song of polka swing serenading the moment as they missed the last step and collided. They fell together and made a pile of sweaty limbs, a grunt from her and a gasp from him.
Pinkie's ears flattened as she turned her head to the side, the slight throb of pain tapping against her skull.
Noteworthy was heavy, straddling her waist as he tried to yank his horn from the little hole it made through the dusty wooden floor. With her hooves on his chest, two tugs got him free and he moaned, blinking the saw dust from his eyes. She groaned, dragging her right hoof to push the furry furnace off. The stallion slid to the patio floor like a puddle going down a sewer drain, splashing his complaints on the way down.
Nearby, the clear pitcher full of sweet lemonade and ice chose to clink —ice melting from the hot, hot sun— as the song concluded and white noise filled the air. First, she heard her heart thudding inside of its cage. Then, her pink face went red as the memory of the last few seconds played in her head, the music crooning.
Her eyes stalked the planks that made the floor and then attacked, a quick and mostly intentional look at Noteworthy.
She stared at him, her mind giving no answers.
Then she looked away, blushing even harder.
“I can't-” The blue unicorn sputtered, flushing to her surprise, spreading out on the ground. His big lazy rear wagging in the air as he fanned himself with his tail. “I can't get the dance right.” He said, rotating his left fore-hoof. “Let's call it a day. I'll treat you to a cupcake at your place... This was dumb of me, anyways. Asking you to teach me the Canter Riot days before the Summer Solstice... It's getting late, you know. Real late. I thought I would have been great at this, you know?" His voice wavered into a whisper. "Maybe, I should try something else...”
The big ball of fire sat over top of them. Directly in the middle of the sky, cooking the pearls of sweat off their bodies through a slight gap in the domed ceiling. And it was at those words, the idle reasons of a stallion who certainly didn't know a thing about day and night, time and temptation, that Pinkie Pie chose not to sigh.
“What are you talking about! It's not late. It will never be too late to dance!" She said, refusing to head home early to think long and hard about the way he felt against her flank. "I won't be able to feel my hooves tomorrow, Noteworthy. So let's do it!”
Pinkie forced herself up, the record in the old gramophone starting from the beginning, and they danced. She and her shadow, one step, two step. Her swollen hooves gliding across the floor. The lazy summer wind joined the party, playing with her curly hair as she twirled. At her first dip, Noteworthy lumbered to her side, moving in place to catch her. And so they were together, a few notes from the beat —him, not her—. And so they practiced, their intermingling breaths —her and him— steadily growing louder than the purring melody.
With a final twist and dip, the song skipped as the needle moved over a old crack. Noteworthy leaned Pinkie back correctly, his fore-hoof in the middle of her back as they stood on their hind legs.
And he had to ruin the moment by kissing her.
And then Pinkie made it even worse by kissing right back.
They parted, the hymn of their lips when their mouths were plucked from each other seemed to echoed even louder than the old Rookwell horn blaring its heart out in the track. Pinkie thought of touching her mouth, wanting to feel the heat that lingered there. But then Noteworthy just had to beat her, blatantly doing it in front of her. His face flushing even harder as he avoided her eyes.
“You- You can't just do that.” She blurted out, her tail twitching and twitching to catch her attention. Pinkie ignored and ignored because this —that kiss— was so unforgivable that she needed another word to make her everything known.
Noteworthy said nothing, backing up into the thin shade the garden shack provided. His eyes, alight with the faint specks of the sun reflecting in them, seem to crinkle around the edges as if he came to some grand conclusion that he was unwilling to share.
It infuriated her.
It all infuriated her.
“Do you like me!” She heaved, her heart in her throat.
Wouldn't it be nice to die on the spot?
“No.”
Pinkie swayed on her hooves, the revelation knocking her back. She looked left. She looked right. Eyes watering. Eyes hardening. Her little form deflated, her knobby knees rattling a SOS before she puffed herself up. All of this could be dealt with tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the day after that. She certainly hadn't seen her Ma and Pa down in Rookwell for a while. They might need her for six months. Maybe even forever.
“I love you.” He said, blushing. Her knees rattled even harder. “But I kissed you and I'm sorry. It was...” Noteworthy chuckled, the sound drifting and sticking into her ears like petals flying free from a meadow. She shivered despite herself and that only made her angrier. “It's not like... Look, I'm sorry. I wanted to confess during the Summer Solstice, not like this. I love you.” He said again, his words taking turns in trying to make her faint on the spot.
Noteworthy was indeed, the worse pony she ever met, ever.
“You're not sorry.” Pinkie pointed a hoof and stomped her way over to his corner. “But I'm going to make you sorry. Sorry!” She squished their muzzles together, carefully not press into his lips. “From the top!”
The old gramophone sighed, the record playing from the start as if commanded by her words. Pinkie smashed their mouths together. Noteworthy chuckled again, the evil stallion. They kissed slowly and with that, they began to dance.
