brookepatterson is one of those fresh faces that somehow makes you stop scrolling. She’s blonde, the kind that looks like sunlight got drunk and stayed in her hair. She’s new, so you won’t catch that fake, over-rehearsed vibe yet. It’s still raw, a little awkward, and that’s half the charm. Watching her figure out her own rhythm is like seeing a deer on ice—except the deer is hot and knows she’s being watched.
She’s got this thing with her feet too, like she knows people are staring at them and quietly dares them to look longer. There’s something about how she moves, slow and teasing, like she’s writing rude poetry with her toes and waiting for you to lose your damn mind over it.