Chapter 3
By the second half of October, Iowa City had traded its autumn glow for a gray chill, the kind that seeped into your bones and made lecture halls feel like a prison sentence. With midterms behind them and the weekend coming up, Alex began to hatch a plan.
On Friday morning, as they were getting ready for the day, it was time to spring the surprise. He abruptly closed his laptop and spun his desk chair to face Matthew.
“Let’s ditch,” he said. “No classes, no studying—just get out of here for a day.”
Matthew stopped in the midst of stashing his biochem notes in his backpack and looked up, one eyebrow raised. “You serious? I’ve got another quiz on Monday.”
“It’s only one day, man,” Alex cut in. “It just so happens I scored tickets to the BTS concert in Des Moines tonight. We can take my car. Come on, live a little.”
“Cutting class to go to a concert, huh?” Matthew blinked in surprise. “You think your mom would approve?”
Alex looked a little sheepish. “Cutting class is my little rebellion. Besides, we deserve it after the stretch we just went through. You in or what?”
Matthew hesitated, the straight-arrow farm kid in him balking at the idea of skipping out. But then he thought of another day hunched over his desk, the same four walls, the same buried thoughts circling his head—and Alex had gone to the trouble of getting the tickets.
“Screw it,” he said, tossing his backpack aside. “I’m in.”
*
Later that afternoon, they were rumbling west on I-80 in Alex’s SUV. The heater wheezed and the seats smelled faintly of old takeout. He’d plugged his phone into a janky USB port on the center console, blasting BTS’s “Dynamite” through the speakers. Matthew didn’t know the words, but caught himself tapping along, grinning as Alex belted out the chorus with zero shame.
“You’re ridiculous,” Matthew said, shaking his head.
“Oh, you love it,” Alex shot back, and for a second their eyes met before Alex turned back to the road.
Matthew looked at him with a sideways glance—a faintly puzzled smile on his face—then turned back to look out the windshield at the flat Iowa farmland rolling by in a blur of brown fields and skeletal trees.
The drive to Des Moines was just under two hours. They talked about everything and nothing—how Alex’s brother had side-swiped a mail box while driving this same SUV, how Matthew’s sister Jessie once texted him a photo of their barn cat Rufus, with a mysterious caption that just said “The King.”
But somewhere past Newton, the conversation turned deeper.
“What do you want out of all this?” Alex asked, his hands steady on the wheel. “Like, after college, med school, all that?”
Matthew leaned his head against the window, watching the horizon.
“I don’t know. Used to think I’d go back home, maybe open a practice in Keosauqua. Help folks like my dad who’d rather tough out a broken arm than drive to a hospital. But now . . . I dunno. Feels like I want more than that. Something bigger. You?”
Alex chewed his lip, his gaze fixed ahead.
“I guess whatever I do, want it to mean something, you know? I want to live on my own terms, not my parents’. That’s the tricky part.”
Matthew nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Family’s everything. But sometimes, it’s a weight, too.”
“For real,“ Alex said, his voice trailing off.
They fell silent then, each lost in their own thoughts as the miles rolled by.
*
The sun dipped low, painting the skyline in soft pinks as they approached the outskirts of Des Moines. Matthew stretched in his seat with a stifled yawn and turned to Alex.
“Food first?” he asked. “We’ve got some time before your boy band takes the stage.”
Alex thought for a second. “McDonald’s okay?”
“Nah,” Matthew said. “I’ve got a better idea. Ever heard of Skip’s?”
Alex indicated he hadn’t, but Matthew seemed eager, so he decided to go along with it. Taking the exit off the freeway, he followed Matthew’s driving directions as the sky darkened.
Skip’s turned out to be a sleek, upscale joint on Fleur Drive near the airport, all dark wood and white tablecloths, the kind of place that smelled like grilled meat and money. Alex hesitated in the doorway, his hoodie and scuffed hiking boots suddenly feeling out of place next to the suited-up crowd at the bar.
“Whoa,” he muttered. “This is pretty bougie.”
Matthew clapped a hand on his shoulder, steering him inside. “Relax. My uncle brought us here once when we visited Des Moines. Best steak you’ll ever have. You’ll love it.”
“My mom’d lose it,” Alex said with a low whistle, as he spied the prices of the specials chalked on the menu board. “She thinks steak’s just overpriced American nonsense. Give her bulgogi or forget it.”
“Then this is your rebellion number two,” Matthew said with a wink, holding up two fingers. “Come on, I’m buying.”
“No way,” Alex protested. “You don’t have to—”
“You drove. You got the tickets. I’ve got this,” Matthew insisted.
Alex relented as they were escorted to a booth near the back. The server brought them water in heavy glasses, returning a few moments later to take their orders. Soon enough, two sizzling ribeye steaks arrived, juicy and perfectly seared.
Alex took a bite and groaned, his eyes widening. “Okay, you win. This is ridiculous.”
“Told you,” Matthew said, cutting into his own. “Mom’s barbecued ribs are still the champ, but this is a close second.”
They ate slowly, trading stories between bites—Alex admitting he once tried to cook for his family and nearly set the kitchen on fire, Matthew recounting how his dad had taught him to grill hamburgers properly over a charcoal fire—after he’d incinerated the first batch.
The restaurant’s hum faded into the background until it was just them, laughing and lingering over every word. Alex couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a meal more. Matthew’s easy manner seemed to smooth out his edges in a way he didn’t quite understand.
By the time they finished and were paying the check—Matthew sliding cash onto the table with a stubborn look that dared Alex to argue—they’d lost track of time.
“Crap, we’re gonna be late for the concert,” Alex said, checking his phone.
“Worth it,” Matthew said, unbothered, and Alex couldn’t disagree.
