Pascal beamed at me, and my heart did a backflip. He had this way of lighting up a room with his smile, and seeing that warmth directed at me made me feel like I’d won something precious.
“Remember,” Pascal told the group, “there are no wrong emotions. They all serve a purpose, even the ones that don’t feel good.”
A hand shot up. “Like in the movie? How Sadness helped Riley in the end?”
“Exactly.” Pascal’s enthusiasm was contagious. “Which brings us to today’s theme. Who’s seenInside Out?”
The discussion that followed was fascinating. These kids were so insightful, sharing their experiences with handling different emotions. When one boy mentioned struggling with anger after coming out to his grandparents, I shared my own coming out story.
“My dad didn’t speak to me for two months after I told him I was bi,” I said. “I was so angry at him for suggesting I’d chosen this. But eventually, we found our way back to each other. Now, we’re closer than ever and he’s completely okay with who I am. Sometimes people need time to process.”
The look Pascal gave me then… There was something in those brown eyes that made my breath catch. Understanding? Admiration? Whatever it was, I wanted to see more of it.
“You’re openly bi?” a lanky boy with glasses asked.
I nodded.
“How did you know?”
Pascal caught my eye, giving me an encouraging nod.
“Well, that’s quite a story.” I settled more comfortably into my chair. “Let’s just say it involved my girlfriend’s twin brother…and me realizing that I liked him as much as I liked her.”
The teens laughed, and Pascal let out an adorable little giggle.
But what really got me was how he handled the discussion that followed. He guided the conversation about emotions with such genuine care, creating a space where these kids felt safe enough to be vulnerable. When one of the kids admitted to feeling scared about coming out to his soccer team, Pascal shared his own coming out story with such honesty and grace that I felt my heart squeeze.
Something on the back of his arm caught my attention as he gestured. Oh, he had an insulin pump. He probably had type 1 diabetes. I was all too familiar with that, as Heidi, my sister-in-law, had it.
Pascal seemed so comfortable in his own skin. Everything about him felt authentic, from his mannerisms to the way he listened so intently to each teen who spoke. I had to get to know him better. It had been a long time since I’d had this level of interest in someone, and I wasn’t going to play games. Life was too short for that.
When nine o’clock rolled around, the teens were reluctant to leave but eventually dispersed after many hugs and high-fives. Pascal’s energy seemed to dim slightly once they were gone, and he sank into one of the chairs.
“You okay?” I asked, concerned.
He gave me a tired smile. “Yeah, just coming down from the adrenaline high. These sessions are emotionally intense sometimes.”
“You’re amazing with them.” I sat next to him. “The way you handled that soccer kid’s situation… That was masterful.”
A slight blush colored his cheeks. “Thanks. My goal is to be the adult I needed when I was their age.”
That hit me right in the feels. “Well, you’re succeeding.” I took a deep breath. “Listen, Pascal…”
He looked up at me, those brown eyes impossibly warm behind his glasses. “Yes?”
“Would you like to go out sometime? With me?” My heart hammered against my ribs. “On a date?”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really.” I smiled, hoping my nervousness didn’t show. “Why are you so surprised?”
“I…” He fiddled with his glasses before finally looking up again. “Are you looking for a hookup? Or something more? Not that there’s anything wrong with hooking up, but I want to manage expectations. Yours and mine.”
He’d gotten hurt. The realization made my heart squeeze painfully. “While I like sex as much as most guys, that’s not what I’m after here. If I was, I wouldn’t have bothered with a date. I’d like to get to know you better.”
The smile that broke across his face was like a sunrise. “In that case, yes. I’d love to go out with you.”
“Great.” Relief and excitement coursed through me. “How about Saturday?”
