Free The Way You Are by Matthew Lang

beer as of last night and didn’t feel up to a trip to the bottle-o {17} .”
    “Trial isn’t going well?”
    Rook shook his head. “The thing that gets me are the looks Billy and his two friends keep shooting my way. It’s like they’re mocking me because they did it, and they know they’re going to get away with it. And the worst thing is I can’t remember it! And people keep saying that could be a good thing, but if I knew, I’d still be dealing with trauma, but I might get some closure. It’s like I’m being cheated out of something I need, but I can’t remember why I want or need it.”
    “Rook—”
    “Can we get beer?”
    Leon smiled. “Sure, we can get a beer.”
    “Thank you.”
    “But not here,” Leon said. “We’re going out.”
    “What?”
    “The Queer Collective is having a Christmas dinner thing—we scored you a ticket.”
    “Thanks, but I’ve accepted the fact that I’m straight, Leon,” Rook said, sitting down on his red couch. “I know the Queer Collective is meant to be a queer safe space. You know, away from the rest of straight society.”
    “They opened it up this year,” Leon said, pushing his fringe back from his eyes. “And we’d all really like you to be there.”
    “Oh,” Rook said. “Well, I’m honored, but I’m not really dressed for the occasion.”
    Leon checked his watch. “We’ve got two hours. Plenty of time.” He stood and cut a dramatic pose. “To the bathroom!”
    A faint smile tugged at Rook’s lips. “I take it you’re going to badger me until I give in and come?”
    “Pretty much,” Leon said. “Do I win yet?”
    Rook shook his head and slowly pulled himself to his feet. “I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that I’m not dating you.”
    “You can commiserate with Warrick later,” Leon said. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell you exactly how much grief you’re missing.”
    “Warrick? You two back together?”
    “Um, yeah.”
    “Well, that’s great. I think. Is that great?”
    Leon couldn’t help the self-satisfied smile that stole across his features. “So far, yeah.”
    “Okay, I will keep all snarky comments to myself, then.”
    “Very funny, mister,” Leon said. “Now march!”
    Given the need to wrap Rook’s leg cast in a garbage bag to prevent the plaster from getting wet, it took a fair amount of time to get him presentable—and a baggy pair of light black slacks to cover up his cast. All in all, it took them the better part of their two hours to get to the Bar on the Hill {18} , where the dinner was taking place.
    The Bar on the Hill was a fair bit more than just a bar. Officially known as the Hunter Union, most Novocastrians still called it “the Bar on the Hill,” although some liked to call it “the Ar on the Hill,” hearkening back to days when someone nicked off with the B. The building contained not only the aforementioned bar but also an auditorium that was the place for live music on campus. After pulling into the car park, Leon helped Rook up the stairs to the bar proper, where long tables with white tablecloths had been placed on the wooden parquet flooring, overseen by the giant TV screen that Leon had always thought was really a projector. The scrum in front of the bar was as dense as always, although Leon was able to catch Warrick’s eye, and he soon came over with three pots of beer.
    “This place is packed,” Rook said as Leon ushered him in the front of the room.
    “It’s an important event,” Warrick said with a shrug as he placed the beers down in front of them before leaning in to give Leon a quick kiss.
    “It is?”
    “Of course,” Warrick said, sitting down next to Leon. “End of exams, start of the holidays, a bit of Christmas cheer.”
    Rook grunted. “Well, okay, I might be feeling a bit ‘bah humbug’ about all that—but thank you for the beer.”
    Warrick winked. “There’s a tab.”
    “Then I thank the Queer Collective. Although I’d prefer it if