Hanging Out

Ellen stood at the door of Mason's hotel room, her heart pounding in her chest. The way Mason looked at her, his eyes cold and his tone sharp, made her feel like an unwelcome intruder. She braced herself for him to chase her away or, worse, slam the door in her face.

Mason stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to her surprise, he stepped aside and allowed her to enter. "Fine," he said, his voice clipped. "Come in."

Ellen walked into the room, the door closing softly behind her. She felt a mix of feeling good and being on edge. The room was identical to hers, with the same neutral décor and modern furnishings.

She moved towards the edge of the bed and sat down, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She watched as Mason walked over to the desk by the window and sat down, opening his laptop. 

"Why are you still working?" Ellen asked, her voice soft, trying to break the tension.