Todos los capítulos de Programmed the Quaterback Robot to Love: Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

Kaya POV The next morning I head into the stadium and just by the entrance, my eyes catch something… no SomeoneMy eyes lands on Riley just across the double doors, she stands behind a car, and man whisper yelling at her.“I need my money Riley!!” I hear him yellShe shushes him but I don’t stick around to find out what else they have to discus, a smirk crosses my lips, this will make Riley more desperate.Just perfect for my plan.I head into the field and the sun feels sharper today, beating down on the turf like it has something to prove. Sweat clings under my collar, the smell of grass and rubber mixing in the air. Flynn jogs across the field, helmet tucked under one arm, hair sticking damply to his forehead. His gaze catches on me like it always does, and for half a second, the noise around me fades. Tom stands a few yards away, shoulders bunched so tight you’d think the pads were too small. Coach’s whistle shrills, snapping everyone back into motion. The team lines up, boots

Kaya POV My alarm barely finishes buzzing before my phone starts vibrating again, notifications pouring in so fast the screen glitches for a second. For a moment, I think it’s more work emails, Coach asking for player stats, maybe Lily with another meme about Riley’s wardrobe, but then I see it. A blog headline in bold, tacky font: “Who is Flynn Fetcher’s Mystery Woman?” My heart stops. The words blur, then refocus, as I blink against the bright morning light. They’ve got pictures. Grainy, zoomed in from the charity game, but unmistakable, me on the sidelines, clipboard clutched against my chest, looking at Flynn. Flynn looking right back, sweat-damp hair curling over his brow, eyes locked on me like I’m the only thing that matters. A hot flush creeps up my neck so fast it prickles. My chest tightens, stomach twisting painfully. Because I remember why my face looked like that. The night before. The kiss. The stupid, reckless, perfect kiss. I slam the phone face down on my pil

Kaya POV The next morning, the stadium halls feel colder than usual. I keep my head down, clipboard hugged close, trying to steady the drum in my chest that hasn’t stopped since last night. Flynn’s words from last night playing in my mind, the kiss we shared in the lab. Me telling him it was a mistake. And to top it off, I can’t seem to forget the way his gaze had dropped to my lips before he pulled back, as if he’d fought himself and almost lost. I’m halfway to the equipment room when a shadow cuts across my path. Tom. He blocks the hallway without even trying, arms folded, eyes darker than I’ve seen in months. The faint smell of sweat and cologne clings to him once so familiar it felt like home. Now it makes my stomach twist. “Running somewhere?” His voice is calm, too calm. “I have work to do,” I say, trying to brush past him, but he shifts, stepping in front of me again. His gaze drops to the clipboard clutched in my hands, then rises back to meet mine, colder now.

Kaya POV “K…?” The sound of it slices through the night. For a second, everything around me goes quiet, the stadium lights hum softer, my heartbeat echoes too loud in my chest, and all I hear is that single letter rolling off Flynn’s tongue. My breath catches painfully. No one calls me that. Flynn frowns, confusion flickering across his face like static. His brow pulls tight, voice dipping lower. “Why did I call you that?” he murmurs, almost to himself. The glitch is subtle a tiny pause, a twitch of hesitation but I see it. I built him, I know every smooth calculation in that code. This isn’t that. And just like that, my mind isn’t here anymore. I’m seventeen again, hoodie too big for my shoulders, hair pulled messily into a ponytail that keeps slipping loose. It’s late..too late to be at school but the lab is quiet and empty, and I like it that way. It smells like solder and burnt plastic, and my half-finished circuit board glows under the desk lamp. The night I met him. I h

Kaya POV I’m not sure what’s more distracting, the memory of Flynn flirting with me today or the fact that he’s standing in my doorway now like nothing happened. His shirt clings to his body slightly, and he’s holding a data tablet in one hand and a roll of synthetic skin patches in the other. “I figured you’d want to scan this,” he says, holding up the tablet. “And maybe… fix this?” He gestures to the faint scratch running along his side, just above the waistband of his sweats. I blink, slow to register that he’s talking about the wound and not, say, the way his abs flex when he shifts his stance. “Right,” I say, voice tighter than I mean it to be. “Sit.” Flynn steps into the lab and hops up on the edge of the workbench like he’s done this a hundred times before. I grab my tools and the micro-laser. My fingers are steady, but my insides feel like static. I clear my throat, keeping things clinical. “You shouldn’t have brushed Riley off so quickly.” “She was being dramatic,