A bad way to show someone you like them

I once attended an engagement party that was for my then-best-friend's sister. It was across the street, at her house, and the small house was over flowing with people and even bigger personalities. There was a goat being roasted somewhere in the yard, and more food than I had ever seen in my entire life in the kitchen. Italians are great like that, they're always trying to feed you.
I was wearing a gray shirt and blue shorts; it was summer and the sun was high and hot above our heads. I meandered through the crowd, stopping to talk to several people along the way (her family was practically my family back then), and slowly made my way back inside the house. It was too hot for people and I decided to lay next to a fan in my friend's room. My plan was spoiled when I opened her door and found that the room was occupied with several of her cousins. Instead of being able to flop down on top of her bed, I had to settle for a spot on the floor, next to the door.
We all laughed and talked about whatever it is that 14-17-year-olds talk about, all of us except for one, Andrew, who remained uncharacteristically quiet in the corner. The fan did nothing to cool the room. I sat, my back pressed up against the wall, eyes closed, trying to visualize icebergs and snow. I lifted my arm to fan my face and neck when I got the odd feeling that someone was looking at me. I opened my eyes and, sure enough, found a pair of hazel eyes staring back at me. At some point in time Andrew had made his way out of the corner and right next to me.
"You must be hot." He said, "You've got the biggest pit stains I've ever seen."
My eyes went wide with shock. Had he really just said what I thought he said?
I self-consciously pulled my arms in closer to my body, trying to cover up the offending dark spots on my gray shirt.
"Ugh.. Yes. It's very hot in here." I replied.
Andrew continued to stare at me and talk. "Don't worry," he said, trying to put me at ease, "I've got them, too. You just can't tell because my shirt is dark."
"That's lovely." I told him. I wanted to get away from Andrew. I wanted to go home and change my shirt. I wanted to go back in time so that I could have avoided this entire conversation. I did not understand what possibly could have made him feel the need to embarrass me in front of several of his cousins. Maybe it was because he was still embarrassed about that one time when he got an erection while we were all swimming in his Uncle's pool. It had happened years before, and none of us [girls] had ever seen an erection before.
"I shouldn't have said that..." He mumbled.
"What?" I asked.
"I shouldn't have said that.. about you sweating. I just get nervous sometimes." He whispered.
"Why do you get nervous?" I asked him.
"Talking to girls; talking to you. You are cute. I get nervous."
"Oh." I said.
"Oh." He echoed.
"You're right." I said.
"I'm right? About what?"
"You shouldn't have said that.. about me sweating. That's not a very good way to start a conversation."
"Oh."
"It's okay." I said, as I patted his arm and proceeded to pull myself to my feet. "It's hot in here. Let's go outside." And I held out my hand, and he took it.