Just A Small Town Girl by J.E. Hunter

liked him more than I’d liked Sam and he’d been my husband. The thought sent a shiver of fear through my body.
    I was ready to be a wild girl. I was ready to dance and drink with Seph and Bailey. I was not ready to develop deep feelings for the single dad living across the hall from me and the idea that I might be made me still completely in the middle of the dance floor.
    “Everything o-“
    “Fish, thirty seconds man,” a bald guy I recognized from sitting at the table with Fisher earlier and the karaoke incident slapped him on the back and smiled down at me. Did Dunesville just breed their boys to be extremely tall or were the two standing before me freaks of nature?
    “I’m Kyle,” the bald guy took my hand in his and smiled, “And you’re Piper?”
    I only managed to half nod yes when our small group was joined by a man barely taller than me, effectively dashing my Dunesville giants theory.
    “This must be Piper,” the short man shook his long blond hair out of his eyes before leaning forward and offering me a half hug, “I’m Dustin,” he said, squeezing me around my middle.
    “You guys know who I am?” I eyed the three friends.
    They shared a look before Kyle shrugged, “Small town,” he proclaimed before turning to Fisher, “We have to go on now Fish.” He pointed at his bare wrist to emphasize his point while walking backwards toward the stage, miraculously managing not to knock into any of the dancing bodies on his way.
    “Sure,” Fisher looked at me, a ‘what can you do’ look plastered across his face, “Thanks for the dance Piper,” he touched my cheek, his fingers leaving a trail of warmth, before following his friends to the stage where he strapped a guitar to his chest and immediately announced “We’re Fisherman’s Warf and we’re so glad it’s almost Friday!”
    The way he dragged out the word “so” made a slow tickle wind its way up my spine. Before I could put too much thought into that physiological occurrence, Kyle smacked the drumsticks together three times and they launched into an upbeat song.
    I backed away from the stage, toward the bar, in awe of their surprising talent and was met there by Bailey.
    “They’re good right?” she said conversationally while sucking on the hot pink straw sticking out of her fruity smelling drink, “They’ve been playing together for a few years. Honestly, I was just surprised the band didn’t break up when…”
    “When Riley came along?” I asked.
    “Yeah,” Bailey’s eyes were drawn to a spot in the sea of girls dancing and cheering in front of the stage where Seph ground her hips against a man with long black hair, not-so-discreetly glancing up at the band every so often.
    “I feel like I might be done dancing with guys for now,” Bailey placed her empty cup on the bar, “let’s go out there and put a little more girl into this girls’ night.” She pulled me to the dance floor and we danced, melding with the crowd for the fast songs and the slow ones, enjoying a few testosterone free moments.
     
    A booming knock made me jump, dropping the knife I was cutting tomatoes with, and made Riley begin screaming in the living room. I whispered a few thankful words I hadn’t nicked my finger as I scooped up the baby and calmed him while making my way to the front door.
    That afternoon, Fisher surprised me by leaving Riley himself and coming in to talk. We’d discussed his music and the band for nearly an hour before he realized he was late for his set and raced from my apartment. The thought of his guilty smile as he ran through my front door made the corners of my mouth tilt up in a smile of my own.
    The smile slowly slid from my lips when I opened my front door and was greeted by a very stern faced Puck.
    “Hey,” I smiled, shifting Riley on my hip and trying to guess a possible reason for the tension rolling off Puck’s body. I couldn’t think of one.
    “What the fuck Piper?” he bellowed, his raised voice