He faltered for half a second on the controller, but that was all the opening his douche of a best friend needed to fucking kill his ass. Again. He wondered when the hell James got smart enough to play mind games. "What the fuck, dude?"
A shit-eating grin spread slowly across James's face. "I'm sorry, is this breaking news? You and Alisha are sleeping together. Am I right?"
"Shut up," he grumbled.
"Nice comeback," James snorted. "I'll just take that as confirmation."
Big wasn't in the mood for this conversation right now. It wasn't that he felt the need to keep things a secret from his best friend, but it's how Alisha wanted it for the time being. He also half wondered what it meant that part of him kind of wanted to have a conversation with James about it…even if now wasn't the time. Jesus. He hadn't been to the beach lately, so he wasn't sure where this sand in his vagina had come from.
Not one to use his words in every situation, he took action and chucked the game controller at James, smacking him right above the left eyebrow.
"Ow! Goddammit!" James yelped, rubbing the rapidly reddening spot on his head. "You're such a dick!"
"Sorry, bro," Big said soberly before bursting out laughing. Honestly, he hadn't aimed for James's head. It was merely a happy accident.
"Yeah? Well, sorry this, douchebag," James snapped, punching his friend hard in the chest.
"You hit like a fucking girl, Keller," Big jeered, as he reached out and pulled a titty twister on his friend.
Next thing he knew his laugh was dying in his throat and he was tackled to the ground; James pushed his face into the carpet. Big slapped his chest, hard ('cause let's face it, sometimes girls had the right idea!)
"Slapping, really?" James chortled, continuing to sit on his chest.
The air slipped out of his body as James pressed down hard with his hands. He balled his fist and swung, landing it square against James's jaw.
"Motherfuck!"
Big got the upper hand and knocked Frankenteen off and pinned him to the ground. "Now what, big boy?"
James punched him in the solar plexus.
"Dude, this shit is super gay!" Big coughed, struggling for breath. Then with an Indian burn to end all Indian burns to James's forearm, he released him and scrambled to his feet. He snorted and extended a hand to help his buddy off the ground.
"That was dumb," James said simply, running a hand over his smarting jaw.
Big rubbed his sternum and bit out a gruff, "Fuckin' A."
The two men smirked at each other and headed for the kitchen and more beer.
James yanked open the fridge and pulled out two beers, handing one to Big. He held the bottle to his jaw, letting the cold soothe the throbbing ache. "Tickets to Ray LaMontagne? Awesome," James exclaimed, noticing the tickets under a magnet. "When'd you get those?"
Big took a long, slow pull from his beer, eyeing his friend. "Hanukkah gift," he admitted.
A knowing grin spread across James's face. "From Alisha?"
"Yeah, so," Big shrugged. His friend smirked, and he rolled his eyes in response. "What?"
"You bought her tickets to a Colts game and then she got you tickets to Ray LaMontagne? Dude. Dude!" James's eyes rounded, and his mouth fell open.
"Spit it the fuck out already, Keller," Big said crossly.
"Alisha's your girlfriend."
He nearly choked on his beer. "Are you shitting me right now? Think about me and then that crazy ass statement you just made. I don't do girlfriends. Lisha and I are just fuck buddies, alright?" Though as the words left his mouth, he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more.
"Oh that is such bullshit, Big, and you know it."
"No. It isn't," he retorted quickly.
James rolled his eyes. "Okay, so she's not your 'girlfriend.' But friends with Benefits don't buy each other expensive presents on gift-giving holidays."
He had a point. A very valid point. But he and Larrington made their own rules. They didn't need to conform to society's norms on whatever-ships.
When Big didn't respond, James pressed for more information. "How long has she been your non-girlfriend, then?"
"If you're asking how long I've been banging her, then the answer is since the night we played the reunion show."
James's brows shot north and his lips twitched into a smirk. "Dude."
"Fuck off! Don't say it again," Big snapped. "And don't you know any words besides dude?"
"She is so your girlfriend."
"You want my fist in your face again?" He set his bottle down on the counter and pushed up his sleeves. "Let's go."
James shook with laughter. He never thought he'd see the day that his best friend would be so riled up about a woman. The fact that he had no clue about it either was even more hilarious. He wondered how long it would take him to clue in.
"You're a douche." Big slugged him (hard) on the shoulder and stalked out of the kitchen.
No matter how awesome and hot and wicked in the sack Alisha Larrington was, she wasn't his goddamn girlfriend.
Biggerone didn't do girlfriends.
Right?
Right!
Big and Alisha left the stadium after the Colts/Jets game. Her team lost and she wasn't taking it well. At all. He shouldn't have found her so fucking sexy at that moment, because honestly, she was being a big Debbie Downer about the whole thing; her lips were curved in a deep frown and the annoyance from the loss was vibrating off her in waves. With the twin braids sticking out Beneath her white Colts hat, the blue horseshoe painted on her cheek, and all the rest of her Colts gear, she really worked the whole dedicated sports fan thing. (He also knew how she liked to get railed when she was in a bad mood, so he figured this worked in his favor.)
"Come on, Shorty," Big prodded as they walked through the parking lot towards the shuttle. "You've been pouting since the start
