We’re not the kind of friends that say I love you, but I want to in this moment. I want to tell him what it means to me, knowing that he had my back even when it looked like we were both being arrested. Reaching across the dark car, I wrap my fingers around his wrist where his hand is resting on the seat between us. He looks over. “I love you, man,” I tell him, and he gives me a weak smile. “And thanks for having my back.” “I love you, too.”
