3. What In The Mamma Mia?! #3
“I mean,” I shrugged arrogantly, “look at me.”
“That’s the James we know!” Andi said proudly, handing me another shot.
I drank it immediately.
“Okay, but first,” I added, “I need to go to the toilet.”
Andre nodded. “Good luck surviving that journey.”
I waved at them dismissively and stepped away.
The walk through the crowd felt like navigating a moving ocean. Bodies swayed around me. Lights flashed overhead. The music pounded so loudly that I could feel it inside my skull.
The world tilted slightly as I pushed through the crowd.
Definitely drunk.
And when I reached the toilet, the fluorescent lighting felt like stepping into a completely different universe from the dance floor.
A few guys stood at the urinals.
I stepped into one and focused very hard on the simple task of peeing.
But even that required concentration when intoxicated.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed a couple of the guys glancing at me. One of them even gave a subtle nod.
But I ignored it. I wasn’t in the mood tonight. Besides, my only mission at the moment was not falling over.
When I finished, I walked to the sink and turned on the faucet.
Cold water ran over my hands, making me shiver.
I splashed some on my face and blinked slowly as the room spun.
Okay. Still drunk.
I looked up at the mirror… and froze.
My brain took a full second to process it.
He looked almost exactly the same—clean-cut, charming, and wearing the kind of smile that used to give me butterflies.
I stood there like a deer caught in headlights.
Because standing behind me was a familiar face.
Francis.
Ex-boyfriend number one.
He saw me in the mirror.
Then his face lit up.
“James,” he said warmly.
My heart dropped straight into my stomach.
NOPE!
Without saying a word, I turned around and bolted out of the toilet.
The hallway outside was still crowded, but adrenaline suddenly cut through the alcohol.
I turned a corner—
—and slammed straight into someone.
“Oof!”
Hands grabbed my shoulders to steady me.
I looked up.
And it was Kyle.
Ex-boyfriend number two.
What the hell?
Kyle looked down at me with the exact same cocky smirk I remembered.
Tall.
Confident.
Infuriatingly handsome.
Big cock.
“Well, well,” he said lazily, his eyes examining my face. “If it isn’t James.”
My brain malfunctioned.
I felt like that meme of the confused woman with mathematical equations floating around her head.
“What are the odds?” he added, clearly enjoying himself.
But I just stared at him like I had just seen a ghost.
Two exes.
In the same building.
NOPE!
NOPE!
I shoved past him.
“James—hey—” he called after me. But I was already running away.
I pushed through the crowd toward the entrance of the club, with my brain spiraling.
This has to be a coincidence.
I reached the front entrance—
—and stopped dead in my tracks.
Standing near the door was a third familiar face.
Rick.
Ex-boyfriend number three.
He looked exactly the same as the last time I left: soft smile, easy eyes, and the kind of warmth that had always felt close to home.
He saw me and his face immediately brightened.
“James!” he said happily.
My entire body went cold.
What the actual fuck is happening?
Three ex-boyfriends.
In one club.
On the same night.
On my birthday.
NOPE!
NOPE!
NOPE!
I turned around immediately and ran back toward the VIP section. Because clearly the universe had decided to turn my life into a romantic comedy nightmare.
I pushed through the crowd, heart racing, vision spinning, barely making it back to the table.
My friends were still there.
Calm. Relaxed. Drinking. As though the universe hadn’t just personally attacked me.
I knelt down, grabbing the edge of the table, slightly out of breath.
“My exes are here,” I said.
Silence.
They all looked at me like I was some deranged person.
Then, they looked at each other.
I blinked.
“Guys,” I said slowly, like I was explaining something to toddlers. “My. Exes. Are. Here.”
Another pause.
Another round of glances.
“Which ex?” Andre asked.
“All of them!” I snapped, gesturing wildly. “Plural. As in more than one. As in—”
I turned away from my friends and froze.
“Oh my God.”
They followed my gaze.
Walking past the edge of the VIP section, scanning the crowd, was Francis.
My heart started pounding again.
“This can’t be hap—”
“James—” Honey started.
But my eyes already moved toward the stairs… where I saw Kyle and Rick—both of them weaving through the crowd, making their way up.
Coming here.
Coming to me.
Three directions.
Three ex-boyfriends.
All converging.
At the same time.
On my birthday.
I stared at them, one by one, drunk and horrified.
“What in the Mamma Mia is happening?” I asked, my vision spinning harder and faster.
Andi opened her mouth. But it was too late.
My stomach flipped.
I grabbed the nearest thing in front of me—the metal bucket for the tequila bottle—and threw up.
Somewhere I heard someone scream.
“JESUS CHRIST, JAMES!”
I was not fine.
The room spun more than ever.
The lights blurred.
The last thing I saw was three familiar silhouettes getting closer.
Then…
Nothing.
I passed out.
Shit.