Todos los capítulos de Programmed the Quaterback Robot to Love: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

Kaya POV The next day by the time practice ends, the late afternoon sun has dipped low enough to burn yellow across the field. Coach’s voice carries over the hum of the team gathering near the benches. “Listen up,” he says, smacking his clipboard against his palm. “This Saturday, the Lions Foundation Gala, sponsors, media, old players, the works. Black tie. Show up, smile, don’t embarrass the damn team.” Half-laughs ripple across the locker room. Jaden elbows Gideon, grinning like it’s a party already. Tom doesn’t crack a smile his jaw set tight, arms folded across his chest. Flynn listens, face calm, gaze flicking toward me for just a beat too long. I keep my eyes on my clipboard, pretending to review a page of stats I know by heart. Coach mutters, “Yes, even you, Whinley,” tossing Tom a pointed look. “Behave.” Tom’s lip curls, but he doesn’t answer. When the team breaks, players start streaming to the showers, Flynn drifts closer. His shirt clings damp to broad shoulde

Kaya POV “Are you okay?” Flynn hums, his face morphs into concern. Something that shouldn't be possible with a robot. My mouth fries and I step back from his embrace, “I..I just need to think that's all” Flynn takes a step closer to me, “You shouldn't worry about Tom and Riley so much, they are powerless. Your plan is working and soon they will face the consequences of their actions” he says in one breath, a look of unbelief on his face like he's surprised I am even worried. “You are smartest woman I know Kaya” he eyes flicker to me. His gaze is so intense that my heart drums so loudly I think he can hear it My lip perk up, trying to drop the tension between us. My arms across my body, “I am the only smart woman you know Flynn” He laughs and the sound vibrates so hard that it attracts looks from everyone. Me standing there and a hot football player laughing over what I said. I want to hide and diassapear but Flynn grabs me before I can, “At least you're not as stupid as, dumb

Kaya POV The music feels softer when we step back into the ballroom, but the air has changed. Flynn walks a half step behind me, hand light at my lower back, not pushing, just there, protective and reassuring. The warmth of it makes my heart trip, even as my mind screams to keep distance. Crystal chandeliers spill light over polished the marble and guests drift toward exits, some clinking glasses in quiet groups. Laughter feels forced now, the night winding down around leftover tension. Flynn leans closer, voice low near my ear, almost teasing. “You okay?” I force a small laugh, shaking off the edge in my chest. “Fine,” I say, hoping it sounds casual. “It’s late, that’s all.” He watches me a beat longer, like he wants to ask more, then just nods. “Stay close.” It shouldn’t make my chest warm the way it does. We move through the crowd together and heads turn. His presence draws eyes without trying, and being beside him feels both safe and exposed. The heat of his hand at my bac

Kaya POVThe next morning starts lighter than usual. The air feels different as we walk onto the field.Laughter drifting from the rookies, someone flicking a towel at a teammate, music buzzing low from someone’s speaker. For a moment, it almost feels like a normal practice, before all the drama, before the stares and questions.I slam coach office close, clipboard in hand when Flynn jogs past me, helmet tucked under his arm, sweat just starting to bead at his temples. He catches my gaze and flashes that crooked grin, the one that pulls at something deep in my chest no matter how hard I try to ignore it. “Morning, Kaya, Did you have a goodnight sleep? Because i definitely did” he teases, voice low.Last night after the party, I had charged him for the next week, thus the goodnight sleep. I roll my eyes, trying to hide how my lips twitch. “Focus, Flynn.” His smirk widens. “Always do.”Practice starts with warm-ups. Rookies drop gear, fumble passes, and get gently shoved by older pla

Kaya POV The sun hits the field harder than usual the next morning, heat shimmering off fresh white yard lines. I wipe sweat off my neck with the edge of my sleeve and keep my clipboard tucked tight against my chest. Coach Harriman blows his whistle twice, and every conversation dies at once. Even the new rookies look up, helmets under their arms. Flynn, as usual, stands with one hand braced on his hip, calm but attentive. Tom crosses his arms over his chest, jaw already set like he knows whatever comes next won’t suit him. Coach clears his throat, voice still gravelly from too many seasons barking orders over crowds. “Listen up. Next week we’re playing a televised charity game against the Phoenix Titans the money goes to the youth sports fund. There will be big cameras, sponsors, fans and none of you better screw it up.” A murmur rolls through the team, shoulder pads shift, helmets creak under sweaty palms. Even Flynn’s brow lifts slightly, curiosity flickering across hi