Page 16 of Beasts

“The original story was much darker and not really meant for kids. In fact, I don’t think there’s even a kiss in the original version,” Oliver explains, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

I consider challenging the script. “Why don’t we suggest that change to Mr. Fasoli?”

Oliver shrugs. “Given how hard it was to avoid playing Prince Charming, I doubt he’d budge on the script.”

I can’t hide my frustration. “This doesn’t seem fair. Why did you push for me to play this role?”

Oliver leans back, choosing his words carefully. “You know what I am. It’s different with you. Any other girl in this role wouldn’t understand why I might hesitate or need to practice touching.”

“Practice touching ‘often’?” I ask, a mix of surprise and curiosity in my voice.

“Feeling squeamish?” he teases.

I shake my head, though I’m visibly uneasy. “No, I mean, I just... I don’t even know how to start with this. I thought Nolan told you I was afraid of vampires.”

“He did. I just don’t care.” Wow, that was blunt. “The fact is, at the moment when you look at me, all you see is a vampire. And although I’m not encouraging you to see otherwise, because as a matter of fact, vampires are deadly, it would be nicer to know that you dislike me for me and not because of what I am. So can you try and do me a favor and stop picking at your cuticles while you’re around me and fidgeting so aggressively?” I look down on my hands and realize that not only am I picking my cuticles, I’m also starting to tear the edges of the paper. What is wrong with me?

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was doing it.” He looks out towards everybody else just to make sure that they’re not too close before he leans in towards me.

“Look, I’m not trying to be a dick here. But the fact is, I just can’t touch anyone. It’s been a long time since I’ve attempted to perform on stage, but I remember enjoying it. I really don’t want to hurt anyone, and I need your help. So please will you just help me?” His earnest request leaves me slightly stunned. Nodding, I agree, seeing this as an opportunity for both of us. For Oliver, it’s a chance to reconnect with something he enjoys, and for me, perhaps a way to confront and overcome my fears. As his eyes meet mine, the green in them shining more intensely than the brown, I can’t help but wonder if this is the right decision. But in this moment, it feels like a step toward understanding him better, beyond the vampire facade.

Chapter ten

A Late Night Snack

The late evening finds me returning home from my new barista job, still buzzing with the excitement of learning something new. The house is mostly quiet, save for Reyes, who’s engrossed in a conversation with an unseen presence in the lounge. He acknowledges my arrival with a nod but continues his ethereal chat.

Hunger gnaws at me; I realize I haven’t eaten since lunch. As I head to the kitchen for a much-needed meal, I’m startled to find Oliver there, working on something that sends delicious aromas wafting through the air.

“Seriously?” he asks, noticing my reaction.

I try to play it cool. “I was just startled, that’s all. There’s a difference.”

“Whatever you say, Snow,” he quips, and I can’t help but roll my eyes as I rummage through the fridge.

Curiosity gets the better of me. “What made you join the drama club? I mean, with your aversion to being touched and all.”

He explains while stirring the contents of a pan. “I was in the music club, but it disbanded. Most members were too busy with actual music classes.”

“So, you enjoy composing music?”

“Yeah, it’s something I like.” He turns to lean against the counter, his posture relaxed, arms crossed. I’m still pondering over what to eat when Oliver offers, “If you’re hungry, you can have some of this.”

Hesitant, I reply, “I don’t want to take your food.”

“It’s not mine. It’s for everyone. They should learn to fend for themselves, anyway.”

I’m confused. “Isn’t that your dinner?”

“No, I don’t eat regular food,” he says matter-of-factly.

My curiosity gets the better of me. “What do you-” I stop, realizing the implication of my question.

“It’s fine to be confused. You’re still new to all this,” he says, a hint of understanding in his tone. “I cook because it relaxes me, but I don’t partake in it.”

“Nolan mentioned that the others... ensure you’re…” I say cautiously.

“Fed,” he confirms, his voice neutral.

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