Some Mistakes by Matthew J. Metzger


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Craig’s life is defined by ugly mistakes. This ‘arrangement’ with sex-mad Damian is

another – but maybe some mistakes aren’t so bad after all…

Craig is not good at commitment. Relationships are to be avoided at all costs—but

when Damian and their evolving coffee-order code fail to elicit anything more serious than

Damian’s last name, Craig begins to think that this is not a mistake at all, but an opportunity

for guilt-free fun, without the prospect of breaking any hearts. Craig cannot afford to be

found out, but it looks like Damian isn’t interested in asking the right questions.

Then his mother dies. The mistake that ruined Craig’s life in the first place is dragged

kicking and screaming out of the past—and this casual arrangement with Damian begins to

show its true colours.

As the song changes, the dancers shift, and a neon light ricochets off that fair hair.

Craig necks the rest of his glass and moves. He rolls off the bar, predatory, and advances on

the shadowed dancer like something on the hunt. Damian is dancing with someone, not quite

touching but almost there, and Craig hooks a finger into the top of Damian’s tight jeans to

turn him, cupping those narrow hips in both hands.

“Hello,” Damian says—or, rather, mouths. The music is too loud, but Craig doesn’t

need to hear him. The way those lips lift at the left side of his face is enough, and then

Damian drapes both arms oh-so-casually over Craig’s shoulders and begins to sway idly

against him. He’s wearing those jeans that do something sinful to his arse, and Craig slides

both hands into the back pockets. Damian just grins.

“Buy you a drink?” Craig asks against Damian’s ear, audible only by the extreme

proximity, and bites the lobe lightly when Damian squirms against his hands. Damian has

a bony arse, all things considered, but he can move his hips better than any woman in the

frankly sensual way he dances, fluid as water, and it more than makes up for it. He twists

and flexes as he sways, and if Craig didn’t already know his measurements, he’d be able to

calculate them now.

Damian nods. Craig guides him to the bar, one hand still in a back pocket, and they

lounge against it waiting for the bartender to be free. Damian slips a hand between Craig’s

shirt and jeans, and his fingers are hot.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, just about audible now they’re off the dance floor

itself. Craig smirks. Damian’s asked this question every Friday night since the second time

Craig picked him up, and Craig never gives the same answer.

“Keeping tabs,” he says this time, and Damian grins. He’s had a few drinks already,

judging by the lax way the smile blossoms, and the way he tips his head like his tight, almost

strict, control over his own body has slipped a little. It’s enticing, and Craig pulls him in and

nips at his neck. When there’s no shivery wriggle, he bites harder, and Damian sighs. Yep.

Not quite drunk yet, but definitely heading there.

“On what?” Damian murmurs and kisses Craig’s stubble.

“On who else you play around with.”

Damian laughs. There’s no illusions here – no strings – and it’s what Craig needs.

There’s no expectations with Damian. They don’t go on dates, and they don’t know each other

outside of sex and a coffee code about sex. Damian doesn’t come here to pick up Craig,

specifically. And when one of them loses interest and this all stops, it won’t matter. There’ll

be no hideous fallout.

That knowledge is freeing, and it’s why Craig keeps a hand in Damian’s back pocket—

literally—and orders for him at the bar. He knows what Damian drinks by now. The nasty,

paint-stripper variety of vodka that Edge of Pleasure serves. Sometimes with a mixer,

sometimes straight. Craig always orders it mixed with something, because he hates the taste

of vodka alone on Damian’s tongue.

“You trying to get me drunk?” Damian asks when Craig slides two double vodka and

Cokes along the top of the bar.


“Why?” Damian asks, but knocks the first one back despite the question.

“You’re easier to handle when you’re smashed,” Craig says honestly.

Damian smirks, knocking back the second before looping his arms around Craig’s neck

again and whispering in his ear. “You can’t handle me drunk or sober.”

“I can try.”

“Mm, you could.” Damian peels himself away. Craig watches him, watches who else

watches him, and follows to cup those narrow hips and dance with him. He doesn’t really

know the music, and he’s not much of a dancer, but it’s easy enough to match Damian’s

rhythm and get his attention now and then with another bruise on his neck or another kiss.

Craig hooks a finger into the top of Damian’s jeans and keeps him close. He kisses his

neck and glowers over Damian’s shoulder at another man who keeps hovering. Craig has

plans for tonight, and the only unpredictable variable is when Damian has had enough of


Or rather, enough of dancing vertically.

Matthew J. Metzger is the front for a twenty-three-year-old British author writing

on the side of a demanding day job, and not wishing to be fully out of the closet just yet.

Matthew is as much a creation as the characters in his books, and was invented in time for the

release of his debut young adult novel, Our Last Summer.

Since then, Matthew has published on many more novels in the gay romance and

young adult genres, with his work focusing on the grittier contemporary issues such as

disability, illness, mental health, domestic violence and conflict in relationships. His trilogy

on music and depression, beginning with Vivaldi in the Dark in December 2013, has been

billed as both heartbreaking and intense. His fifth novel, Enough, was a bestseller within two

weeks of publication, and at the opposite end of the spectrum is far more light-hearted. He is

currently working on four new projects for 2015, about cancer, superheroes and unrequited

love, coming out, and breaking up. (Not all at the same time.)

When he’s not writing, Matthew is sleeping or working. Most of his time is spent

thinking about writing or actually doing it. He can be stalked on Twitter and Facebook, as

well as his WordPress blog, and welcomes contact from readers and fellow authors alike.


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