Antonella's POV
"Where can I steal a chair from?" I ask as I reach the long table at the front and she approaches me.
"Babe," she starts. "I'm so sorry, there aren't any extra chairs."
"Not even in the back?" I chuckle at the idea.
"Nope," she smiles. "You're seated at table number nine."
"Why? The seating chart had me here." I explain and leave that question alone immediately. "Why can't I bring that chair over to this table then?"
"Oh sweetie, with the plates and all? The waiters already started taking orders, you wouldn't wanna mess them up, now would you?"
I press my lips onto one another before they form a smile and I nod.
I walk away from the long rectangular table and make my way through the rest of the round ones as I look for the number nine in the centerpiece of one of them.
"You've gotta be kidding me," I roll my eyes as I reach the table.
I grudgingly pull out the one empty chair and sit down in it harshly as all the teens around the table stare at me.
"Hi," I raise my eyebrows and greet them all before they went back to talking to each other.
"Aren't you one of the bridesmaids?" The teenage girl on my left questioned.
"What gave it away?" I bit and she frowned before sitting back. "I'm sorry," I shake my head. "That was rude."
"No shit," the other teenage girl on my right began. "What'd you do to get here?"
"The kiddie table?" I ask.
"More like young adults," the flamboyant boy across from me corrected.
"I'm friends with the wrong type of people is all," I shrug.
"What's your name, my love?" A slick talking teenage boy asks after.
"Antonella," I speak as I look up and meet eyes with Juan across the room.
"You know him?" The girl on my left excitedly asks.
"No," I lie as he begins to approach me.
I shift in my seat as he walks over to the table and I try pretending like the plates in front of me have my full attention.
"Anto," Juan speaks, champagne glass in hand. "Can I talk to you for a second?" He smiles over at all the teenage girls and one boy giving him googly eyes.
"What do you want?" I hiss.
"I want to apologize," he says. "For many things."
"Juan, your wrong isn't with me," I look up at him, already over our fight. "It's with everyone in this place for letting the lovely couple waste their time."
"I'll take that," he nods. "But at least I, unlike you, and I mean that in the nicest way possible because I know how hard it is for you to speak up, am gonna do something about it."
"I'm sure you are," I roll my eyes and look away from him. "Now, if you'll excuse me."
Juan stays there for a second, eyes on me, before leaving the table and making everyone there squeal.
"What's that all about?" The once rude girl got enthused.
"Don't worry about it," the kid trying to get with every girl here puts his arm around her.
"It's about how shit this whole wedding is," I spoke truly.
"Is that insanely hot guy your boyfriend?"
"Nope," I sat back and let out a sigh.
"Tell us what happened with you and the best man," one of them suggests.
Instead of saying the usual, that nothing happened, I look at every single one of the teenagers around me and analyze the dangers of telling them our story.
"How old are you all?" I ask.
"Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen... nineteen," one said.
"Well," I sat up. "Maybe I can."
"Don't leave anything out," one of them spoke. "Don't lie."
"I, Antonella," I put my hand up. "Swear this all happened."