James laughed mockingly. "Not gonna happen. This is your mess, you clean it up."
He scowled now, hating that James was right. He couldn't believe he was about to do what he was about to do, but he opened his mouth and the words poured out. "How do I do that?" he mumbled.
Rising to his feet, James grinned down at his clueless friend and clapped him on the back. "You're the brains of this operation, Big," he told him dryly. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."
Dammit.
Big stood outside 5A, staring at the gold-plated door marker and wondering what the fuck he was hesitating for. It was just Larrington and it was just a simple apology. He was awesome. He was badass. He was Big. This really should be no big deal. He heard her laughing inside the apartment and smiled. At least she was in a good mood. Lifting a fisted hand, he rapped loudly on the door.
When the door swung open, he was leaned casually against the jamb, his trademark smirk fixed on his lips. "Hey, Larrington," he greeted smoothly, taking in her casual appearance (sweats and a ponytail were sexy…who knew?) as the smile fell away from her face.
"Big," Alisha replied, completely flabbergasted to see him standing there. "What are you doing here?" she asked, remembering the last time he was in her doorway and fighting the urge to fidget.
"Got a proposition for you—can I come in?" He saw her hesitate and look over her shoulder. Perhaps she was thinking about the last time they were here together. Thoughts of her naked were never far from his mind. Then the blond douche otherwise known as Derek walked out of the kitchen.
"Hey, Lisha, is that our pizza?"
"Sorry to disappoint," Big drawled lazily, still leaning against the doorframe, shifting his eyes to Alisha, who looked awkwardly back and forth between the two men. "Can I have a minute?" he asked, one eyebrow arched.
Alisha was curious. She had no clue what he wanted, but she knew that it would bug her too much to not find out. So she shrugged carelessly and said, "I guess." She looked questioningly back to Derek who was slipping into his coat.
"You're out of beer. I'll run out and get us some," he said with a slight smile on his chiseled face. "Be back in ten."
Big moved out of the doorway and let the guy who was apparently once again fucking Alisha Larrington brush by him as they sized each other up. Douche. She gestured for him to come inside and folded her arms across her chest.
"What do you want, Big?" she inquired.
"Here, I brought this for you," he said gruffly, holding the paper sack in his outstretched hand.
She stared skeptically at him for a moment before taking the bag. "What's this?"
"A bribe…it's your favorite if memory serves."
Unfolding the top of the bag, she opened it and the mouthwatering scent of pastrami on rye floated into her nose. "You brought me a sandwich?" she asked, resisting the urge to smile. He didn't get off that easily. She lifted her cool eyes to his. "And why exactly are you bribing me?"
"So you'll sing with the band in two weeks," he said easily, offering a crooked smile.
"No," she shook her head, folding the top of the bag over again.
"Why not?" he grumbled, shoving a hand into the pocket of his jeans.
"Because you can't just show up here, throw a sandwich at me and expect things to be fine," she said evenly, setting the bag down on the little table by the door.
He'd known it wouldn't be that easy. He'd hoped, but no dice. "I'm sorry, okay," he bit out quickly, shrugging a shoulder nearly up to his chin.
Alisha's lips twitched down into a frown and she shook her head again. "For what?" She was pretty sure he didn't have a clue.
Big's mood was rapidly souring. He hated this shit. Being put on the spot…apologizing…it made him uncomfortable and twitchy. "Oh, come on, Shorty—you know why I'm sorry."
"This is the worst apology I've ever heard in my life," she said with a pinched expression. "And I'd prefer it if you didn't call me that anymore."
"What, so we're not friends now?" he snapped. He found that the idea really bothered him. He was getting used to her being around.
"We weren't friends to begin with." She felt her throat go dry.
"Alisha, come on," Big said, aggravated. "That's not true."
Her name on his lips made her pause. She wasn't sure he'd ever used it. Maybe once, but she honestly couldn't remember him ever calling her anything other than Larrington or Shorty. Alisha shrugged her shoulders. It was a gesture she didn't really care for and one that she used far too often in his presence.
Her silence was unnerving as hell seeing as she normally never shut up. "Look—I guess I was out of line the other day, but the whole thing was just funny, okay? I don't get why you were so bent out of shape. I was the one that helped you out and crashed on your couch, so no psycho would come in and attack you. Then I wake up and you're all buck ass naked and screaming. And can you really blame my brain for going retarded when you're standing naked in front of me? You may not like hearing it, but you're hot, Alisha. Hot chicks tend to make guys do dumb shit."
Alisha tried to fight the smile, but wasn't very successful. "My statement stands—you really suck at apologizing," she laughed dryly.
Big felt the grin stretch slowly across his face. "Does this mean you'll sing with the band?"
"I believe all I said was that you're no good at apologizing." She brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes.
"We need your pipes, Shorty. Come on," he said with a little smirk. When she arched a sculpted brow, he sighed. "Please?" he muttered. She didn't relent, so he went with the
