The Drumbeat of His Heart

by M. C. Roth

  Trent could hear the loud, tinny voice on the other end, but he couldn’t make out the words. He could hear the tone, though, and whoever it was, they were pissed.

  “I was busy,” Ian growled back into the phone, glancing back at Trent for a moment before he looked away again. “You said ten. I’ve still got an hour.” There was another pause as the voice on the other end grew even louder. “Why does it matter where I am? I’ll be back before ten. Fuck you, man. It’s not my fault you decided to change the plan last minute. I’ll be back in an hour.” Ian clicked the phone shut and tossed it in the middle of the bed, where it bounced once before settling on the sheets.

  “You should go,” said Trent as he struggled to remain standing with his back pressed against the door. His knees were suddenly weak beneath him. The clock loomed across the room. The time didn’t matter now.

  Ian sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his hand over his scalp before he finally looked up at Trent. His blue eyes were narrowed and pinched with a look akin to grief. His hands gripped at his legs like he didn’t quite know what to do with them.

  “It was nice seeing you again, Ian. It really was.” Trent’s voice wavered. There was so much he wanted to say.

  “I don’t want to go,” said Ian as he shook his head. The phone buzzed on the bed again and the same ring tone split the air. Ian looked at it with clenched teeth before he scooped it up and accepted the call. With a second click, he put the call on speaker. A loud male voice, muffled by wind, sounded in the room.

  “Ian, the bus is leaving in ten minutes, whether you’re on it or not. I don’t care where you went last night, but get back here now. I’m not kidding.” The man was breathing hard and the sound of wind buffeted the speaker again.

  “I’m in the hotel.” Ian looked straight at Trent as he spoke. Blue eyes pierced into Trent’s soul with a fierce expression.

  “Finally got sick of sleeping in the van?” The voice huffed again and suddenly the wind went silent. “I’ll come get you then. Which room?” The ding of the elevator sounded in the background, along with the distant murmur of a few voices.

  “Four-thirteen,” Ian answered before he reached for the phone and ended the call.

  “I thought you didn’t want anyone to know about us?” Trent’s stomach clenched in nervousness, surprise and no small amount of joy. The biggest reason for the nervousness was the look on Ian’s face and the unease in his entire frame. The silence stretched as the bigger man refused to answer.

  A knock sounded at the door right next to Trent’s ear and he jumped in surprise at the sudden noise.

  Ian smiled, just the barest hint before it disappeared again. “He’s a fast fucker when he needs to be. Can you get the door for me? It is your room, after all.”

  The handle was heavy in Trent’s hand as turned it. The lock clicked open and the latch slid wide as he pulled the door towards him. It resisted in a way that only hotel doors seemed to do.

  In the hall stood the flushed form of a very attractive man. His hair was cropped short on top and buzzed along the sides in a military cut. He was skinny, and only a few inches shorter than Trent, but his frame was wiry, firm and covered with a black T-shirt and slacks. He looked like he could fight dirty and come out on top in any bout he might choose to enter.

  It was a few moments before recognition kicked in and Trent realized that he was looking at the same man who had been singing up on the stage the night before. Without the music surrounding him and the band T-shirts, he just looked like a man, not the performer that everyone wanted.

  “Oh,” the singer took a step back, “I must have the wrong room.” He looked Trent up and down and his hand clenched into a fist.

  “I’m in here, Mac,” Ian called from within the room. Trent pulled the door wider and took a step back so Mac could see past him. The singer’s face lit up in shock when he saw Ian sitting on the side of a bed that looked like it had gone through an orgy and back.

  “Have a fun night?” Mac laughed awkwardly, refusing to look at Trent at all. “Are you ready to go?” He took another step back from the door, as if stepping into the room might somehow contaminate him.

  “Nope.” Ian crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll be down at ten, as agreed. Until then, I’m fucking busy.”

  Mac swallowed. His gaze swept the room again as if he was looking for someone else to come out of the woodwork. He clearly spotted the bra thrown over the back of the chair by the upended suitcase and he relaxed.

  “Where’s the chick?” He smirked at Ian and nodded as he still refused to meet Trent’s face.

  Trent was gripping the door handle so tightly that his knuckles had turned white and his palm ached. His gut was getting tighter with each passing moment that Ian sat there and said nothing. And the way Mac was ignoring him rubbed him the wrong way. Fucking homophobe. He wanted to let the door go so it slammed on his perfect fucking face.

  Ian shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Like I said, I’m gonna be fuckin’ busy.” Ian looked like he was starting to get pissed at his friend’s behaviour.

  “I don’t get it.” Mac took another step back. He stopped only a few inches away from the door across the hall.

  “You’re a fucking idiot, Mac. This is Trent.” Ian’s crossed arms flexed as his frustration started to set in. His forehead was wrinkled as he glared at his friend.

  Mac looked at Trent with a small sneaking glance before he shook his head again. “I still don’t get it.” His eyes had narrowed at Trent, though. He obviously did get it but refused to face the reality of the situation.

  “Let me spell it out for you.” Ian stood from the bed, his expression going dark. “This is T, the guy I’m fucking in love with. The same T who I told you about months ago when I got back. You are going to leave so I can finish fucking him—or maybe I’ll just suck his cock and call it a day. Either way, I won’t be down there until ten o’clock. It might even be later now that you’ve spent the last ten minutes wasting my fucking time. Now fuck off.”

  With every word, Ian had stalked closer to Trent. As he told his friend to fuck off, Ian gripped Trent’s chin and pulled him up into a kiss. Trent was drowning in heat so quickly that he hardly felt the door handle slip from his hand before it slammed shut. He did manage to catch a glimpse of utter surprise and horror on Mac’s face before he was cut off by the closing door.

  “Your friend’s a dick,” said Trent as he pulled back from the kiss.

  “Nah, he really is that fucking dumb.” Ian leaned back in and nibbled at his lip. “He’s lucky he can sing, otherwise he’d be homeless.”

  Trent hummed and tilted his head back in for another kiss. He didn’t want to fight, not now, when Ian already had one foot back on the bus.

  They stripped their clothing in record time and soon they were both panting and sweating on the bed. Ian slid a condom onto his cock and coated Trent’s entrance with lube before he was slipping back inside. When he was all the way in, Trent was filled with the sudden feeling of being home.

  He came slowly as Ian took him apart piece by piece, clenching around his cock as it spurted inside him. Even then, Ian kept thrusting as if he never wanted to leave. He only pulled back when Trent whined from overstimulation.

  They made out like lazy teenagers until Ian finally lifted off him. He dressed, still smelling like sex and cum, and grabbed his phone from where it had tumbled to the ground. He slipped out of the door with one last goodbye.

  Trent glanced at the clock and had to smile. It was ten-thirty-two.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dragging himself to work on Monday was one of the hardest things that Trent had ever done. He’d asked for the day off originally and had been hoping for a blissful late morning where he would still be in his pyjamas at eleven. When he checked his phone in the early hours, his voicemail was already full of complaints about equipment that didn’t seem to be working properly. He could ignore them for the week, but he was only a short walk away fro
m the office. If he was at home, they would find him.

  He’d lain in bed, cold and alone, for hours on Sunday night before he’d finally drifted off to sleep. He dreamed of Ian slipping out of the hotel door without looking back.

  He tried to recall the image of Ian bending him over the side of the hot tub and sliding inside. His memory felt dull compared to how the real thing had felt, and his rim ached as he tried to press his own fingers inside. Even a hand on his cock was chafing and unwelcome for the first time in his life.

  His go-to on restless nights was to jerk off hard and fast. It always put him into a deep sleep moments after he wiped himself clean. But there had been no relief for him in the dark of Sunday night, just the scratch of his blankets and the soft whirr of the fan that rocked on his bedside table.

  So, when he woke to his alarm a few hours later, it felt as if he’d just closed his eyes. His eyes were gritty and sore as he rubbed them with the back of his hand, and his body was stiff from the repeated nightmares.

  He rolled out of bed and dragged himself to the bathroom. As he was brushing his teeth, he heard his phone ding in the bedroom, but he ignored it in favour of coffee. He looked like hell in the mirror and it wouldn’t do well to put off his morning brew. He drank it straight up black, despite the cheap, bitter blend. The hotel coffee had been so much better.

  He only remembered his phone almost an hour later, after he’d gone out to check on the ladies. He rushed back inside to grab the phone from the nightstand and ended up pulling the cord harshly out of the wall. He fumbled with his password and had force himself to move slower after he mis-typed it on the first two tries.

  Morning, T

  …the text read on the slightly glowing screen. All at once Trent felt himself flush at the same time his stomach sank. The text was over an hour old. It had been sitting here, waiting for him to reply, but he’d snubbed it in favour of coffee. He replied quickly.

  Morning! Sorry. I was feeding the ladies.

  He waited for a reply, but it never came. He packed his lunch, glancing at the screen every few seconds, but it remained silent. He even checked and double checked that his ring tone was on—which, of course, it was.

  He was just about ready to give up by the time he started to walk to work. He trudged up the stairs and into the building and wished he was walking up his front porch instead. He would do anything to bury himself back under the covers—and preferably not alone.

  His head was hanging low when he approached his desk. He skimmed over the grey chair, flat wooden desk and dull computer screens coated in a thin layer of dust. His phone was flashing red, which indicated that there were even more voicemails waiting for him here. He paused as he reached for his computer monitor to turn it on. Something massive and yellow was blocking the power button from view.

  The largest yellow lilies that he’d ever seen were spilling out of an immense crystal glass flowerpot. Each petal was lined with vibrant red streaks and an orange blush that made them look almost surreal. The smell of sweet flowers and rich earth assaulted him as he stepped closer. There was a small white card tucked amongst the stems. He gripped it in his fingertips and pulled it out.

  Thank you for the lovely weekend.

  It was written in the neat cursive that must have belonged to someone at the flower shop.

  He leaned in closer to take a deep breath of the blooms, filling his lungs with their sugary pollen. A massive sneeze roared out of his chest, which made him rock back on his heels. His eyes watered as a second sneeze threatened behind the bridge of his nose. It burst out with a rush of wind.

  Sniffing, he pulled out his cell and typed out a text to Ian.

  Thanks for the flowers! They made me smile for the first time today.

  He wanted to write more. He wanted to ask the man when he was coming back to Canada and when he would be able to see him next. He forced himself to slip his phone upside down on his desk instead. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

  He moved the lilies so they were far enough away that he didn’t sneeze every few minutes, and got to work. His mind wandered, even as he tried to focus on his delicate work. Every once in a while, he would glance up at the yellow flowers now perched on the little windowsill in his office. They brought a smile to his lips every time.

  It was a little past noon when his office phone rang. He set his salad aside and perched the fork on the edge of the dish before he reached for the receiver.

  “Trent here,” he called into the phone formally. He didn’t bother looking into the display. The majority of the complaints had been taken care of, so there was only one person who would be calling now.

  “You, my friend, are in for a treat,” Candace called from the other side of the line. “Are you sitting down?” She hadn’t taken vacation for the week either, seeing as she’d already blown all of her time by mid-spring.

  “No, I’m juggling. What do you want?” he said sarcastically. He picked up his fork again and shoved a glob of salad into his mouth. It had too much dressing and toppings and not enough lettuce…just the way he liked it.

  “Well, mister grouchy, maybe I’m not going to tell you now.” She sighed dramatically. “Nah, I can’t hold it back. So, guess who has a date with a certain brunette tonight?”

  “What? No. Concert lady?” Trent laughed in surprise. “I had no idea she was a local.” He shifted in his chair and the worn frame groaned in protest. He would never replace his comfiest chair. He’d just managed to get the ass groves right.

  “Yeah, me neither, but apparently she’s a social media stalker and she looked me up. She saw that I worked here and texted me that she lives just down the road.”

  “Tonight already? That seems really soon for you.” He picked at a poppyseed lodged between his teeth and managed to get it free with one tine of his fork.

  “I don’t know if I should.”

  Trent stifled the automatic laugh at his friend’s forlorn sigh, thinking she was just kidding with him. “Wait! Are you serious? What was wrong with her? She seemed nice for the ten minutes that I met her. Was she bad in bed?” If Trent were honest, he could hardly even remember what she looked like. He had been a little focused on someone else in the room.

  “Nah, she was awesome. I’ve never come that hard in my life. Well, maybe one other time, but I think we won’t talk about that if we want to stay friends.”

  Trent’s cheeks heated as he realized what she was talking about. “Shut up,” he hissed into the phone.

  “You were totally into it.” She laughed.

  “Maybe, but don’t avoid the question. What’s so bad about her that you don’t want to go out?” Trent tried to recall what her face had looked like. She’d had a piercing, he remembered that, and shoulder-length brown hair. The rest was a dim haze that would never be recovered from the depths of his mind.

  “She was perfect,” Candace replied. She sighed again before he caught the sound of fingers tapping against keys.

  “Okay?” He paused, wishing that he were next to her so he could see her face. There was probably a reason she was doing this over the phone. She always tried to hide her emotions from him.

  “I just don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship like that. I could really see myself settling down with someone like her. I feel like I should already tell her about my weird sex-toy collection, and I don’t tell anyone about that shit.” Candace trailed off.

  “You have a sex-toy collection?” Trent shuddered as he thought back to the double dong they’d found in the silver bag. If she didn’t consider a vibrating double-dong note-worthy, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she wasn’t telling him.

  “I like collecting different things and trying them out. It keeps things exciting for me, and I like it. Everyone collects something, Trent.”

  “You’re comparing dildos to stamps?” He shouted into the phone before looking back over his shoulder and lowering his voice. “How many do you have? It can’t be that bad.”
<
br />   “Like three hundred or so.” She sighed. “And they aren’t all dildos. There’s other stuff too, and some things that you might like. Some would probably make you never want to talk to me again.” She went quiet and the clacking of keys stopped. “Just forget I said anything. I just don’t know if I want to date this woman. Am I not allowed to be unsure?”

  “You’re afraid you’re going to get hurt,” said Trent. Candace’s grunt of affirmation was enough of an answer. “I’m afraid too, Candace, but you know what? I think Ian’s worth the risk, and so is concert girl.”

  “Debbie. Her name is Debbie.” The sound of keys continued as Candace spoke. “We should make a pact, Trent. If either of us gets hurt, we’ll take out the other one’s ex. And no falling in love. We’ll just have to love each other until the end of time.”

  Trent stayed silent a beat too long and the keys stopped again.

  “Oh no, Trent, really? You love him? But you barely know him. He might be good in the sack, but that doesn’t mean that you go fall in love.”

  “I didn’t realize it until he said it first. I just thought I really missed him, but I think I was just denying it to myself.” Trent slouched down in the chair and stared at the flowers on the ledge. Those flowers looked like love and they sure as hell felt like it too.

  “Shit. You know what? You two are made for each other.” She hummed once before she started typing again. “Fuck it. I’ll call her back and tell her it’s on. Just be ready to take her out if she breaks my heart. Bye, Trent.”

  The phone clicked and Trent slowly set the receiver down. He looked back at the flowers. They were the same bright yellow colour and completely oblivious to his internal conflict. He grabbed his cell phone and typed out a message before he could stop himself.

  Call me when you can. We should talk.

  He erased it twice before he retyped it and hit send. If he’d been the one receiving that text from anyone, it would’ve sounded like a breakup. He just didn’t know what else to say.