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"Thinking of playing a round?"
Melissa snaps her head to the side, taking her attention away from Scott and Stiles for the first time in a long span of minutes. There's a woman standing beside her, one that she's seen a few times this afternoon, usually standing at the edge of the crowds. Her long, brown hair is laying in ringlets over her shoulders and she's wearing a deep blue, knee length dress underneath a cropped leather jacket. When she shifts, Melissa can see the outline of a holster strapped to her thigh underneath the dress.
"Not anytime soon," Melissa responds, turning her attention back to the mini-golf course that's been set up across the expansive backyard. "Golf isn't usually my idea of a good time." It's a strange thing to have at a wedding reception, but it seems to be occupying the kids; Stiles and Scott have already played three rounds on the five hole course and they don't show any signs of stopping anytime soon. As she watches, Stiles trips over the wood separating one hole from the other, but Scott grabs him by the shoulder before he can go sprawling on his face.
"Me neither," the woman says, taking a sip from the half-full tumbler of whiskey in her hand. "It's so boring."
(She isn't wrong; Melissa had gone golfing with Rafa twice and both times, it'd been a struggle just to keep her eyes open long enough to reach the end of the course.)
"At least the kids seem to like it," Melissa says, taking a sip from her own glass of champagne. She points over at where Scott is currently tapping a neon yellow ball towards a windmill obstacle that's nearly as tall as him. "That's mine, over there."
"Cute." Ice cubes clink in the woman's glass and when Melissa glances to her left, the woman's hand is raised towards her. "I'm Braeden."
"Melissa." The handshake is firm and Melissa can feel callouses (likely from the gun under her dress) along Braeden's palms. "How do you know the Yukimuras?"
"I worked with Noshiko awhile ago," Braeden says. "You?"
"I work with Ken at the school. I'm the school nurse."
"Well, that must be fun." There's a mischievous lilt to Braeden's voice and she's smiling slightly, just enough to bare a sliver of teeth between her full lips.
"It's not too bad, if you discount the days where you get covered in snot. Or blood. Or puke."
"Sometimes all three at the same time?" Braeden asks and Melissa groans.
"More than I care to think of." She polishes off her glass of champagne and curls her toes slightly with a wince. Even with new, expensive insoles in the bottom of her heels, there's still pain beginning to shoot up her arches.
"Could I get you another drink?" Melissa ponders the question for only a moment before nodding and passing Braeden her glass. She thinks she can do one more drink before she feels too tipsy and while she can't say for certain that there's more than platonic interest behind her interactions with Braeden, she at least wants to find out a little more about the other woman.
"Be right back." Braeden flashes a bright grin at her before disappearing back into the house.
By the time she returns, Scott and Stiles have finished up their latest round and asked to go home with Stiles' dad. Melissa is just in the process of giving Scott a quick hug when Braeden returns to her side, balancing Melissa's now full champagne glass, her own drink and a small plate of hor d'oeuvres.
"Boys get tired of the game?" she asks, carefully handing Melissa her drink once Scott and Stiles have trailed off after Stiles' father.
"I guess four rounds was enough," Melissa laughs, bubbles from the champagne tickling her nose as she takes a sip.
"Sure you don't want to play a round? It might be fun." When Melissa looks over the top of her glass, Braeden is smiling again, lips turned up elusively. Melissa glances back at the small course, which is miraculously unoccupied by any guests, children or otherwise.
Maybe it'll be fun. At the very least, she only has a few holes that she can potentially embarrass herself on.
"Sure," she replies, stepping out of her heels and letting her toes sink into the soft grass as she reaches for a nearby putter. "If I win, I'm going to have another drink."
"If I win, could I buy you a drink sometime? Or coffee?" Braeden doesn't look even the slightest bit nervous; she's leaning on her own putter, eyebrow raised, hand still wrapped around her drink. Melissa mulls the question over for only a few moments before nodding, grin breaking out across her face.
After all, there's no way the date can go as terribly as the last one she was set up on.
"Sure," she says, thankful when Braeden mirrors her smile. "That'd be nice. I hope you don't mind the harried single mom vibe because sadly, this look is only for special occasions."
"The single mom look is my favorite, actually," Braeden laughs before draining the rest of her drink and setting it down in the grass. "Best of three?"
"Sounds like a deal."
(Unsurprisingly, Braeden wins all three games.
Their first date goes off without a single hiccup.
So does the second. And the third. And the tenth.
After that, Melissa loses count.)