Programmed the Quaterback Robot to Love
A few are on their phones, likely checking the event location, while others toss ideas about which designer cologne to wear like it’s a tactical strategy meeting.
That’s when Riley walks in.
Riley struts in like she’s late on purpose, all heels and sweet smile, just as two rookies are arguing over pocket square colors.
“What’s going on?” she asks, voice annoying as usual, eyes darting around.
Flynn doesn’t even glance up from where he’s untying his cleats. Tom does, just briefly, before returning to his phone. I watch Riley scan the room, eyebrows pinched, and the longer she doesn’t spot an envelope in her name, the more her polished demeanor begins to slip.
Bab Populer