“That’s the point,” I cut him off. “You never complain, Coop. I take and take, and you just give and give. I started feeling… lazy, like I always had you as a backup plan. And I don’t. I shouldn’t have the liberty to think like that. I’ve never been dependent on anyone, and suddenly it felt like I was. $500 one week, $2K the next… and still, no complaints from you. I couldn’t keep doing it.”
My confession forces silence between us and we just stare at each other for a few seconds. Then Cooper lifts his hand, and jabs a finger at my chest.
“You dickhead,” he mutters. “What do you think buddies are for? Do you complain when I crash at your place and eat your food? Of all people, you should know I don’t care about money. But I care about you.” He punches my shoulder. “You dude, you’re my
