Michael ran his finger mindlessly around the brim of his cup, staring at Ben as he sat across the table, playing with the rim of his glasses.
He was still wearing his work clothes, a slightly rumpled green button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the collar undone just past the round hollow in his neck. He kept licking his lips unconsciously, and Michael wanted to jump across the table and eat them off of his face.
“Something on your mind?” asked Ben, running his hand through his mussed hair.