𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄

LIGHT

This boy... he would be the death of her.

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She was a klutz. A stupid, overwhelmed, distracted klutz.

Diana gently wrapped her hand around her foot, running her thumb along the curve of her ankle. She bit her lip, wincing at the pain.

"You sure you're alright? We don't want you workin' on a busted ankle." Sidney stood at her side, his hand on his hip. As per usual, he held a large stack of rolled papers in his hand, ones he carried even when filming had wrapped up for the day.

"I'll be fine," Diana laughed, lowering her ankle to the floor. "A little rest and a bit of ice should do me some good."

Sidney raised his brows, nodded and sighed as he turned away. "Sure hope so. We don't want you hurting yourself worse." He kicked at a small piece of paper on the floor. "And we don't want Michael having a heart attack either. Boy damn near killed everyone trying to get to you." He tossed a playful smirk in her direction.

She couldn't deny it. Anyone with eyes and common sense could see it. He'd practically trampled everyone, including Ted and Nipsey, to be at her side. He and others had fussed over her for several minutes, but in the end, she'd finished the scene. All in spite of Mabel and Sidney's overbearingness. And Michael's alert and vigilant stare.

A chill raced along the side of her neck, but she laughed. Her hand, now stiff and clammy, awkwardly bounced on her knee. "Well, you know! I'm his 'mama'! He worries about me."

Sidney scoffed. "You're more than his 'mama'!" He raised his hand, pointed, tapped his temple. "He's head over heels for you."

If only he weren't.

Diana rolled her lips in. The frown that had been threatening to break through was subdued, at least for now. With some effort, she managed to smile. She hoped it was as dazzling as she hoped.

"Oh, hush!" She waved her hand at him. "Instead of gossiping, how about you help me up?"

She stood to her feet and with a grin, Sidney walked to her side, lending his support.

The set crew swarmed all around them. As Diana balanced her weight, she spotted Michael standing several feet away within the bustling crowd. He was still in costume, the Scarecrow's wild mane and cottony hands swaying from side to side as he spoke to Quincy, who seemed to be getting a kick out of their conversation.

She swung her arm over Sidney's shoulder, grunting as she swung her foot forward. It hurt, but in due time, she'd be fine. The quicker she could get to her dressing room, the better.

Diana blinked. She'd still been staring into the crowd, her eyes trained in Michael and Quincy's direction. And somehow, in the midst of her brain frog, Michael had noticed her, and was now meeting her stare.

Diana's throat went dry. "There's too much noise in this place. Let's get the hell outta here."

Sidney laughed, and despite the churning in her stomach, she was able to laugh along with him.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and followed along as she hobbled her way into the hallway. When they finally approached the door to her dressing room, she turned the knob and Sidney opened it the rest of the way, guiding her forward until she was able to sit comfortably on her orange, plush sofa.

She let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you! God, compared to those chairs out on set, this thing feels like a cloud."

"I'll keep that comment in mind when management comes groveling to our feet for compliments," Sidney quipped.