I wake up in an unfamiliar bed. The room I'm in is so white it feels blinding, even though the light is coming only from a few discreet spots on the ceiling. I sit up, blinking, and rub my eyes. I'm covered with a light blanket. As I throw it away, I find that underneath it, I'm still wearing my jeans and the T-shirt that I had on in the diner. My clothes are the only spot of color in this pale room. Even the crispy sheets underneath me are white, with no print or anything.

I look around, spotting a closet. With its doors as white as the walls, I didn't even notice it at first. There's no other furniture. Also, no windows, but there's a door on the far side of the room.

I lower my feet to the floor and find my sneakers there, carefully arranged by the side of the bed. I slide my feet inside and crouch down to tie the shoelaces. It's all happening in a silence so complete that if not for the small sounds that my clothes make when I move, I could have thought I went deaf.

Done with the shoelaces, I get up and approach the door. I don't remember getting here, so I have no idea what's behind it. My last memory is of me being in the diner, having a kind of a breakdown, with Aiden hugging me, patting my back reassuringly. He was all right with me, even though I had betrayed his expectation, but maybe there're still consequences to be faced. Me being here could be a part of that. Maybe they've decided to transfer me to a new place. Maybe I'm just a prisoner now, no movies, no books, no teaching, just serving my time. On the other hand, like that fake cop said, why would anyone keep a prisoner if he's of no use?

I walk to the door, slightly disoriented by all the whiteness around. Expecting the door to be locked, I grab the gleaming doorknob without much hope, but it turns easily under my hand.

I step into another room, a bigger one. There's more furniture—a small table, a couple of chairs, a coach, all of them as white as three of the walls. The fourth wall, it seems, opens into another living room, that one pretty normal-looking, with wooden walls, brown leather couches, a TV, and shelves crammed with books and souvenirs. The contrast is jarring, and it's hard to imagine why anyone would want to have two interconnected rooms in their house that look so utterly unlike each other.

In front of the fourth wall, with his back to me, stands Aiden.

"Hey," I say, my voice rusty from sleep.

He turns around. He must have changed since the diner, and he's wearing darker jeans with a gray and black hoodie. He pushes his hands into its pockets, watching me. I try to see if he has freckles today, but I can't tell from here.

"What's this place?"

He shrugs. "It's where I live."

"Oh. So that was your bedroom?" I nod at the door through which I've just entered. "So white. I'd have expected black walls. You said black is soothing."

A smile touches his lips. "I don't need soothing colors to sleep."

"And this?" I nod at the room behind him, the normal-looking, colorful one.

"That's another place." He turns, walks to what looks like a code lock on the wall and presses a button. The room disappears, replaced by yet another white wall. It must have been a projection, or a full-wall screen. I wonder why anyone would use a screen to display some random room instead of, say, a movie, but I have more urgent questions to ask.

"Why did you bring me here?" I say.

"You wanted to go to some real place. I figured I'd take you here. It's real enough."

"Why would you do anything for me after what I did back in the diner?"

He shrugs. "Like you said, you did what you had to do. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

"Which is..?"

"Like I said, I like you. I want for us to get to know each other better. If that means showing you more of my life, so be it."

"Okay," I say slowly. Perhaps there's no punishment awaiting me, after all. I don't know how long I've slept, but I feel calmer now, the turmoil that I've been feeling in the diner gone. I feel kind of like a blank page.

"What was that other room?" I nod at the now white fourth wall.

"That's how we see places. To learn about people."

"So, it was someone's actual room? And if they were home, we would have seen them?"

"Yes."

"And they would have seen us?"

"No. It only works one way."

"So, you've planted cameras there?"

"No," he says again. "Let's just say it's a different kind of technology."

I frown. "I've never heard of such technology. It's like the whole wall was a camera. Felt like we could just step through."

"We could," he says, and I just stare at him, waiting for the signs that he's joking.

"That's bullshit," I say when he doesn't laugh.

"You could just ask for a demonstration."

"All right," I say, curious against my will. "Show me."

"Come here."

I come closer. He wraps his hand around my shoulders and gestures at the code lock. I'm very aware of his hand on me, but it doesn't bother me too much. Despite my deep-rooted fear of shifters, I guess somewhere along the way I've stopped being afraid of him, specifically. After all, if he wanted to hurt me, he's had plenty of opportunities to do so.

"Each location has a code," he says. "We can type it in and then watch—or enter, at will."

"Through the screen?"

"It's not a screen, exactly." He gives me an assessing look. "Would you like to try?"

"Yes please," I say, because, despite everything, this looks like magic, and I'm finally getting a peek at shifters' life, so I'm all in.

"Would you like a place that you haven't been to?" he says. "Paris? London? Or something familiar?"

"Could you open it to my old house? Where my parents live?"

He squints at me. "You're planning to try and escape again, aren't you?"

"No!" I shake my head. "You said that they'd be in trouble if I tried to contact them. I just want to look. Is that possible?"

"It is. The question is, are you up to it? You've been pretty ruffled by the latest events. This could be hard on you."

"I'll be fine," I say. "Seriously! Can we?"

He examines me doubtfully before turning away and tapping some numbers into the code lock.

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