𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄

HEAT

"Mama, when's Michael coming over?"

Tracee stood at her side, her brown eyes wide and curious. She played with her hair, twirling her fingers around the end of one pigtail and loosely holding the other between her lips, all while Chudney and Rhonda sat nearby, focused on a small toy they'd dragged in from the bedroom.

It had only been a day since they'd come to stay with her, but between the two trips to the park, a disagreement between Rhonda and Chudney, and Tracee's usual energetic nature, they were already running her ragged. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Diana reached down with a smile. She took the pigtail from Tracee's lips and gently tucked it behind her ear. "Soon! He called not too long ago. He should be here any second now."

Two days had passed since their outing at Studio 54. When she'd invited him Thursday night, she'd simply labeled it as a "night out on the town", yet if their rigid hug and awkward smiles afterward had been enough to tell the tale, that night had been anything but simple. Like most things lately, they'd chosen not to talk about it, so it had stayed in the back of her mind, loud, persistent, and bothersome, especially now that he was due to arrive any minute now.

The doorbell rang and a chorus of excitement erupted around her.

Correction: due to arrive any second now.

Rhonda and Tracee had already bolted to the door. Chudney was still toddling toward them, her little legs pumping so quickly that it took all the strength in the world for Diana to stifle a chuckle.

She approached them, hand on her hip. "I'm about to open the door. Don't you bombard him." She gave them a playful once-over.

Her request fell on deaf ears, of course. The moment she opened the door, they swarmed Michael, nearly toppling him to the ground. He managed to stumble inside before lowering himself to the floor, his laughter floating in the air like a sweet melody.

It was infectious. Diana crouched beside him, her face crinkling with laughter. "I'm so sorry!"

Rhonda had latched on to one shoulder and Chudney to the other. Tracee was the worst of the three: she'd wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him in a death grip.

"It's okay, it's okay!" Even as Diana struggled to tear them away from him, he chuckled.

After some fussing and pouting, the girls finally gave in. They released him, and instead of sticking around for Diana's inevitable finger-wagging, they raced off into the hallway.

"We'll be back! We're going to get toys! Stay right there, Michael!" Tracee's voice rang out from the hall.

Their laughter faded. Diana sighed and with a smile, she shook her head, reaching out to Michael. She helped him to his feet, smoothed out his grey shirt and then raised her hands, gently reshaping his afro.

"Tracee got you good. That girl has way too much energy, I tell you." Diana grinned.

"I've dealt with worse," Michael smiled. It was heartwarming and wide, drawing her eyes to the dimples of his cheeks.

"She messed up your 'do."

"Is it that bad?"

"Could be worse!" She pursed her lips in a teasing purr. "I'm only kidding! I hope you brought along a pick. Mine's been missing in action ever since the girls came."

He shook his head. "Forgot it in the car."

Michael lifted his hand, blindly groping his curls. They worked together in silence. As his hands fluffed and reshaped his hair, his fingers, long and gentle, brushed against hers. His touch was familiar now, but a strangle prickle fizzled its way up her neck, and then radiated higher, settling at the shell of her ear. She pulled her hand away, hoping to settle herself. "Let me—" she spotted a section of flattened curls "—get this part." They reached for the section at the same time, hands curling against each other's.