Beats of the Heart

by B. Rose, Charli

  “I love you, flutterby,” my voice was thick with the emotion I was holding back. My hard swallow was like a dam made of popsicle sticks trying to contain a tidal wave.

  “I love you too, baby,” her declaration tattooed my lips. She gave me one more hard squeeze and the briefest of kisses before she grabbed her bag from Joe and speed walked through security. I watched as she was swallowed up by the sea of passengers all flying off to parts unknown.

  When she was almost out of sight, she turned and gave me a sad smile. I blew her a kiss and waved goodbye. And the countdown began. Sixty-four days before she’d be in my arms again.

  Chapter 7

  Izzy

  Shoving the door open, I dropped my suitcase just inside my apartment and wrestled my keys from the lock. Twenty-four hours of traveling was exhausting. Adding the pain of missing Dawson to that, and I was ready to collapse in my bed. I flipped the light switch and gasped. Perched in the middle of my coffee table was a vase of kaleidoscope roses. New roses. Fresh roses. I hadn’t been able to bring my others with me, so I left them all over Dawson’s room and the bus. Though I longed to flop down and wallow in self-pity over what the coming months would be like without my heart, I beamed as I plucked the card from among the rainbow blooms.

  Thought you needed some extra love and color at home to help you get through the next few weeks. I love you, flutterby. ~Daw

  Shaking my head, I smiled through my tears. How did he always know exactly what I needed even when I didn’t know?

  A vibration came from my pocket. Fishing my phone out, I grinned at Dawson’s timing. With a swipe, his face filled my screen.

  “Hey, flutterby. You’re home.” It was a statement, not a question since he could see my living room behind me.

  ♪ “Miss You Like Crazy” by Natalie Cole

  “Yeah, baby. Just got in a few minutes ago. There was a delay on the last leg of my flight. Bad storm along the coast.”

  “I saw that when I checked in on your flight. It’s not snowing at home is it?”

  “No snow here. The storm is further north. It’s a little too warm for more than a cold rain here.”

  “That’s good. You don’t need to be out in snowy weather since you were sick not that long ago.”

  “Yeah.” My sudden and intense bout with a virus a few weeks ago really worried Dawson. He hated that no one was here to take care of me.

  “How was your flight after we stopped chatting?”

  “Pretty good. I worked on an idea for our next tattoos. Wanna see?”

  “Of course,” his voice was eager.

  I grabbed my sketchbook from my tote bag and flipped to the pages. I turned the screen to show him a tribal guitar wrapped with lines of sheet music. Notes dotted the coiling staff.

  Dawson began humming the notes. “Is that ‘Wherever You Will Go’, a part of the chorus?”

  “Yeah. And here’s what I drew for me.” I flipped the page and showed him an elegant flowing staff of music. The notes were tiny butterflies, with a few flying off the organized lines.

  He hummed the notes, then sang the accompanying lyrics. It was the line following the chorus near the end of the song. I turned the camera back to me.

  “They’re perfect. I love them.”

  “I’ll text you a picture of them when we get off the phone. You can tell me if we should go strictly black ink or colors.”

  “Sounds good. On a different note, did you get my surprise?”

  I flipped the phone around to bring the vase of flowers into view. When I turned it back to me, he looked so pleased with himself. “How did you manage to swing this, Mr. Rockstar?”

  “Well, I found a florist who could hand dye roses nearby. I placed the order. Then I called your building’s doorman and asked if he could he put them in your apartment for you as a surprise.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

  “You convinced my doorman to go in my apartment?” I was dubious at how he managed to convince my very straight-laced doorman to break the rules.

  “Actually, his wife helped me convince him. You know how charming and convincing I can be to the fairer sex. Mrs. Jones thought I was the sweetest thing,” he said smugly and brushed his fingertips against his shoulder.

  “You are the sweetest thing,” I agreed with a laugh. “So, how was your show last night?”

  “I’m not too sure. Good I think. Once you got on the plane, I kind of just went through the motions like a zombie. The reviews were good though. It’s a good thing I can perform in my sleep.” I examined his face on my tiny screen, starved for him. He looked exhausted. When we chatted during my flight, it had been in the middle of the night for him. I should’ve just let him rest, but even hours after being in his arms, I missed him terribly.

  “I miss you too. Is it April yet?” I teased but couldn’t muster the smile to back it up.

  “Sadly, no. And I hate to cut this short, but I have sound check in five minutes and you look like you could use a nap.”

  “It looks like you could use one too.”

  “You’ll have to rest enough for both of us at the moment. Duty calls,” he said with a grimace.

  “I think I totally could sleep enough for two. After a shower to wash the trip off my skin.”

  “Speaking of showers, you left some of your stuff in my room with my toiletries.”

  “Probably when I shoved my stuff in your shower basket when we were conserving water on the tour bus.” I waggled my brows at him.

  Laughter erupted from his lips. “Yeah. I have your shampoo and conditioner. Oh, and your lip gloss and perfume.”

  “Oh, no. Not my perfume. That’s my only bottle of Happily Ever After,” I whined.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll place an order with Whiff to get you a new bottle on the way,” he hastily offered.

  “That would be great. Ever since you designed that scent for me, I don’t wear anything else. It’s like no other aroma fits me anymore.” The perfume Dawson designed for me last Christmas instantly became my favorite fragrance.

  “It’s my favorite scent on you too, well other than mine. It makes you smell like cotton candy. Makes me want to eat you up.” He smirked at me as my face heated with desire.

  “Hey now, you don’t have time to start something right now,” I admonished.

  He pouted. “Fine. I’ll call you after the show. I love you.” His fingers stroked the screen.

  “I love you too. I’ll be counting the minutes. Plug your phone up.”

  He laughed as he blew me a kiss and disconnected.

  * * *

  Later after a shower and a nap, I woke to my phone chirping.

  “Hey, you,” I said softly into the camera.

  “Hey, baby. It’s 3 A.M.,” he sang.

  ♪ “3 A.M.” by Matchbox Twenty

  “I must be lonely,” I finished the line with a giggle.

  “Did you rest?” he asked in his serious voice.

  “Yeah. But I’m still jet lagged,” I answered with a huge yawn.

  “Do you have any photo shoots scheduled tomorrow?”

  “No. Thank goodness, I don’t have anything for a couple more days.” I’d learned a while back that it took me a few days to get back on my own time zone after visiting Dawson on tour.

  “Rest up and get back on Eastern Standard Time,” he encouraged.

  His finger traced the screen of his phone. Closing my eyes, I imagined his touch on my skin. Damn, I missed it.

  “You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” he teased.

  “No. I’m still here. I was just pretending you could reach through the phone to caress my cheek. I know, I know. I’m pathetic.” I gave him a weak smile.

  “I wish I was stroking your cheek. And don’t ever talk about the love of my life like that again. She’s no more pathetic than I am, skipping out on the after party to come fall asleep on the phone with my girlfriend.” He flopped backwards on his bed.

  I laughed. “Won’t be much of a par
ty without you there.”

  “Who cares? The other guys eat up all the extra attention.”

  “Yeah, but Lila wants you to hang out more,” I pouted.

  “I don’t know why. Whenever I show up, I usually sit in the corner talking with some of the instrument techs or roadies. Lila can go screw herself.”

  “She’d rather screw you, I’m quite certain,” I muttered under my breath.

  He either didn’t hear my comment or he chose to ignore it. “Anyway, our time dealing with her is almost over, baby. And so are these lengthy separations. Next year is all North American stops. And I promise when we’re on our own label in eighteen months, I’m going to do what I can to make sure we see each other at least once a month. Either you coming to me, me coming to you, or us meeting in the middle,” he swore.

  I really hoped he’d be able to make that our reality. It was hard to keep focused on us, the longer we were apart.

  “Long as we’re both coming,” I teased, needing to lighten the mood.

  His deep chuckle warmed my soul. “We will be. Don’t you worry about that… But I am serious about how frequently we’ll be together. We just have to survive the end of my contract.”

  “I hope so, Daw. Being with you the past couple of weeks was heaven.”

  “For me too. And being without you is hell.”

  “I know.” I blinked rapidly, trying to force the tears back. My nose burned with the effort.

  “Don’t cry. Time will fly. Matter of fact, Steve and Lila gave us our schedule for the next few weeks. It’s completely nuts. They didn’t even schedule us enough time to sleep. We’re doing phone interviews as we drive between venues. So, I’m sorry if I’m more out of touch the next few weeks. I promise I’ll text and call when I can.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be here whenever you have time.” I longed to ease the guilt evident in his tone. He couldn’t help the demands of his job. He was Dawson freaking Anderson, and everyone wanted a piece of him.

  “I know. It just makes the whole separation suck more.” It was his turn to pout.

  “How about we talk about something else?”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Something that won’t make us sad.”

  “Then how about we do something else?” His brows waggled suggestively at me.

  I licked my lips and nodded. My skin tingled with anticipation of what was to come.

  He rubbed his palms against his pants. “Let’s switch to our laptops. Be back in two minutes?”

  “See you in two.” I disconnected.

  I hurried to the living room and grabbed my bags. I hadn’t bothered to move them further than the entryway when I got home earlier. As I lugged them into the bedroom, I tried to slow my racing heart. My jet lag was taking a backseat to my desires. I tossed my laptop case on the bed, then dug through my suitcase to get my gift. In a few minutes, I had my computer plugged in and perched on the left side of the bed, Dawson’s side. A few quick taps connected me back to Dawson’s stunning smile and smoldering gaze.

  “Ready?” he asked anxiously.

  “Mmhmm,” I answered. And shifted to a more comfortable position on the bed.

  “Hey, did you steal my shirt?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. It’s new, and it does have my slogan on it.” I peered down at the words I’d suggested the band use for the latest promotional material. Loyal to the lyrics, and loyal to the odyssey.

  “It’s our best seller at the merch stands. I actually meant to grab one for you in your size. But you kind of distracted me.”

  “It’s a good thing I prefer your shirt to having one of my own.” I rubbed my hands across the soft material.

  “But it’s so big on you.” He frowned.

  “And it smells like you. When I close my eyes and inhale, I can pretend for a little bit that you’re holding me,” I confessed.

  “Damn, since you put it that way, I don’t see how I’m going to ask you to strip naked right now. If I can’t touch you directly, at least fabric that touched me can brush against you.”

  “Well, I’m going to ask you to take yours off. Please,” I panted.

  He gripped a handful of fabric covering his back and drew it over his head. It was so sexy when he undressed that way. Who was I kidding? He was sexy no matter how he stripped. Dawson got to his feet. My mouth went dry as I admired his physique. The muscles of his abdomen rippled as he moved around. His dark jeans hung low on his hips. Reaching out with one finger, I traced the virtual line of those lickable indentations on his pelvis. The edge of his boxers winked at me. He smirked at my expression, as he flicked open the button on his pants. Slowly, he eased the zipper down. With fingers I was desperate to feel on my flesh, he shoved the denim down. A scrap of black cotton followed in its wake.

  He let me look my fill before he climbed into bed and tugged the sheet up to his hips.

  “Under the covers this time?” I asked in a rasping voice.

  “Yeah. I just need to see your face. Focus on the pleasure spilling across your features. Is that OK with you?” He swallowed audibly.

  I nodded. Though we’d spent numerous video sessions over the years watching each other writhe with passion, some of our most intimate virtual encounters were under covers. Something about it made it feel more like we were in the same space. I eased my feet to the carpet, wiggling my toes into the soft ply. With a shyness that I rarely felt with Dawson after years together, I chewed my bottom lip and shimmied out of my panties. I inched the hem of his shirt up, briefly giving him a flash.

  “Damn,” he growled as he leaned toward his computer screen.

  I slipped beneath my silk sheet and got comfortable.

  “Get your phone and activate the app,” he commanded in a gruff voice. He picked up his phone and mirrored my movements on his screen.

  “OK,” I whispered. “Now what?”

  “Turn on your toy.” I did as he said while he turned on his.

  And beneath the covers with the beauty of technology we set out bringing each other lots and lots of pleasure.

  * * *

  A distant chime sounded somewhere. My eyes cracked open, and my head turned, trying to locate the repeating sound. I grabbed my phone where it lay on the unused pillow. The sound wasn’t coming from it. It was way too early to be awake. I hadn’t willingly seen six in the morning since I finished my coursework. My movements on the bed woke up my opened laptop screen.

  It filled with the sleeping form of my love. Long lashes fanned against his cheek. Lips slightly parted, releasing gentle snores. A strong arm wrapped around the pillow I always slept on. A teasing expanse of flesh from shoulder to hip. The muscle flexed. His hips shifted.

  ♪ “Hear You Breathe” by Carl Wockner

  Then his phone lit up on the bed next to him. That was the source of the chiming.

  “Baby,” my voice was textured with sleepiness. I cleared my throat and spoke again, “Dawson, baby, wake up.”

  “Mmm.” He stirred in his bed, making the sheet slip lower. Bare hip and thigh came into view. Holy hell.

  “Dawson, wake up. Someone’s trying to call you. Incessantly,” I urged.

  “Am I dreaming?” he mumbled as one eye peeked at me.

  “No. But I should still be. It’s six in the morning here,” I grumbled.

  “Then why are you awake? And why am I? I was having the most amazing dream. You were here, and we were—”

  Before he could finish, his ringing phone was accompanied by a pounding on his door.

  “Yo, dude. Lila’s been trying to get in touch with you all morning. Answer your damn phone,” Brooks shouted through the wood. “And good morning, Izzy.”

  “Morning, Brooks,” I called out. The guys knew Dawson and I always fell asleep on the computer together more times than not.

  Dawson picked up his phone and examined the screen.

  “What do you think Lila wants?” I asked, not really caring what new offense had her pa
nties in a wad. But I knew he didn’t want to have to deal with her.

  “Oh, I don’t have to think. I have a pretty good idea. She wants to gripe at me about the latest headlines,” he mumbled, his eyes trained on his phone.

  “What do they say?” I asked, slightly alarmed.

  “Don’t worry about them right now, flutterby. You look exhausted. Go back to sleep. I’ll deal with this crap.” His eyes were sincere.

  “OK.” I didn’t have the energy to argue with him, though tiny part of me wondered what the latest headlines said.

  “I love you and will call you later.” He blew me a kiss.

  “I love you too.” I returned the kiss before he closed his computer screen.

  My eyes drifted shut, and slumber claimed me again.

  Chapter 8

  Dawson

  “Dawson, if you’re not down here in five minutes, I’m coming in there, regardless of what state of undress you’re in,” Lila shouted just outside my door.

  Growling, I stood from my bed. No point in lingering in it and daydreaming about Izzy. Lila’s voice through the pressed wood caused an instant deflation of what dreams of Izzy had inspired. At least I wouldn’t have to call Lila back. But she was raining on my parade.

  Sighing heavily, I yanked on some clothes. I tucked my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and opened the door. As I plodded barefoot down the stairs, I tugged the hem of my shirt down. Without acknowledging any of the group sitting in the living room, I headed straight for the pot of coffee someone had the good sense to brew this morning. Tipping the pot of heavenly elixir, I filled the mug Izzy made me in the ceramics class she hated. The handle was lopsided, and the rim wasn’t perfectly rounded, but I loved it. Once I added cream and sugar, I moved to the couch and sat next to Brooks.

  “Where’s the fire,” Maddox demanded. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed himself. He didn’t come back to the bus when the rest of us did last night, having found a groupie to kill some time with.