Brody's Girl

25: Ultimate Compliments

"This is the worst part." He withdrew his hand, and my chest ached at the uncertainty in his voice. "After hi, what do I say?"

"Whatever you want. It's your conversation." Hopefully, I sounded encouraging.

"Yeah, but what are you expecting me to say? Am I supposed to compliment you? Every time I try to come up with something cool, funny, or charming, my mind wipes blank."

Wow. Brody's frustration mounted with each word, tugging at my heart. Did he go through this mental debate every time? No wonder he got tongue-tied.

I paused. What would a girl like Stella want to hear? Probably some silly compliment, which wasn't my preference. My heart folded over itself at the uneasy look in his eyes. If the truth flowed out of him as naturally as breathing, it was all he would ever need.

"Brody, Stella aside, you don't need to worry about what I or any girl thinks of you. If she doesn't like you for you, she's not worth any of your time."

Skepticism filled his eyes. "But, how do I know that?"

"Good question." I tracked the curve of the track around the next corner. "You don't, but if she's talking to you, she likes you. There are physical signs too, turning her body to face you—" Demonstrating while jogging was a bad idea, as one foot tripped over the other."—tipping her head back to look at you, chewing on her lip, playing with her hair, her eyes rounding. If you catch her looking at you, but she looks away, then looks back. Whether it's either as a friend or more you have to figure out, but it'll be obvious."

He gave me a side eye, so I stroked my ponytail like a petting zoo exhibit, bit my lip, and looked at him from under lowered lashes. "Brody, I'm glad you came over to talk to me. I was hoping you would."

"Girls don't express themselves that clearly."

"Then you're talking to the wrong girls," I teased. "Notice something. A small detail, if she has a book, piece of jewelry, ugly cat sweater, septum piercing, whatever catches your attention. Then just say it's nice or you like it."

The second step, which unfortunately stepped around me, was a physical acknowledgment. However, if a boy tucked my hair behind my ear, stared in my eyes, and said, "I love these," while brushing his fingers over my piercings, I'd fold like a lawn chair.

Brody doing this popped into my mind. Oh gosh. I cupped my warm cheek.

"Could work," he mumbled with as much doubt in his eyes as his wavering voice.

"Try it. No judgment." My unflattering, boxy, great sweats and sweatshirt left little to compliment. Brody's inspection tingled my skin with goosebumps, tingling my skin with awareness. I blushed the longer he looked until I joked, "I know there's not much to look at–"

"I like your eyes, Paige." He looked directly into them.

His compliment fluttered my poor heart, and my whole body sighed. "Really?"

"Yeah." His smile relaxed the tension in his face, the lines wrinkling his forehead disappearing with his half-grin. "They're not blue or green but both. I've never seen their color, but they were the first thing I noticed on you."

He noticed? The idea of Brody seeing me sent a rush of tingles over my skin. I raised my eyebrows, hoping he would clarify with details. He sucked in a breath and pulled the corner of his mouth into his cheek. A tiny crescent dent appeared.

"Why?" I was dying to know what he was sorting through in his head.

"Because they're..." Brody swallowed. "Kind. They don't hide anything. Bright when you're happy like they catch the sun, and cloudy when you're treated unfairly. When they're sad, I see everything I want to change for you. And, when you look at me? There's no judgment, no motives. It's pure, unfiltered, and I just...I dunno. Want to protect it from all the shit you don't deserve."