Page 28 of Touchdowns and Temptations

“Cara?” Noah asks quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Hm,” I mumble, but don't look at him again. Hopefully, we'll get there soon. I want to get out of the car.

“Okay,” he says. “You seem ... so ... so different.”

Of course, I'm different when he - like all the other guys - raves about my father.

“Did I say something wrong?” he keeps asking.

“No,” I snap, running my fingers through my hair, “everything's fine.”

“That's nonsense,” he replies. “We had a great conversation, for the first time, mind you, and now you're completely shutting down. What have I done?”

“What they all do eventually,” I hiss. “Tell me how much you adore my father.”

Noah flinches and slams on the brakes uncontrollably. We both jerk forward and he stops. He hits the hazard lights and looks at me. What the hell is this? He's just supposed to drive me home, that's all. It's enough that I was stupid enough to get into a conversation with him in the first place and then have him in my car.

“What?” asks Noah, confused. “You're mad because I mentioned your dad?”

“I'm mad because you're just like all the other boys,” I reply. “First, they act like they're interested in me, and just when I think maybe I should reach out to you and enjoy the conversation, you tell me about my dad's stats. I know he's thrown five hundred and seventy touchdown passes and I know he's thrown for 50,656 career passing yards, more than anyone before him and currently active. I also know that he's been an MVP six times and won the Super Bowl five times in his career. He's the greatest quarterback of all time and...”

“And I didn't know all that,” he cuts me off.

“What?”

“I don't know the exact numbers,” Noah says, smiling. He takes my hand and strokes the back of it with his thumb. My skin tingles and I bite my lip. That's what they all say - that they don't know the numbers. And when they talk to my dad for the first time, they can rattle off all his accomplishments.

“Everybody says that.”

“I'm not everyone,” he says, looking at me. “Cara... I want to get to know you, and I ... I didn't realize that you ... you don't want to because ... because you think people are only interested in your dad.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “I'm sorry you think that. But I am ... I'm only interested in you.”

“Noah, I...” I turn away from him and lick my lips. “I can't.”

“Why not?” he asks. “I also promise I won't memorize your dad's passing yards or the years of his Super Bowl wins.”

“1994, 1995, 1997, 1999, when my mom was very pregnant, and again in 2001.”

“You really know all the statistics,” Noah says, and I have to laugh.

“I'm his daughter. I need to know.”

“Probably,” he mumbles. “I want to get to know you, not your dad. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” I say, pulling away from him. He leaves me and retreats as well. I am grateful that he understands that I need distance.

“But that's not the only reason. Can you please drive me home?” Noah looks at me again and wants to say something back, but he doesn't. Instead, he puts the car in drive and drives off. “Do you want me to call you a cab?” I ask. “I'll pay for it, of course.”

“No need,” he replies, setting the indicator for our neighborhood. “I can do it myself.”

“Noah!” My voice sounds pathetic and I look over at him. His features are hard and his eyes are fixed on the road. He's angry with me. “I'm paying for this and-”

“You don't have to pay me for a cab, I can just about afford it,” he says ironically. “Give me the code to your gate.” He rolls down the driver's side window and looks at me immediately.

“220599”

“Okay,” he replies and hands it over. “Your birthday, isn't it?”

“Yes,” I say in astonishment. “How did you figure that out?”

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