She was watching him. He'd been reading that book for a while now, she noticed; he must be nearly finished with it. It usually took him a week or so to get through a book of that size. They'd discuss it, argue over the details, agree on some points, disagree on others. And then the book would go back on the shelf and that would be the end of that.
She was watching him. His lips moved slightly as he silently read along with the book. Why am I looking at his lips? she wondered. But he'd already looked up, caught her eye and she looked away, blushing.
He was watching her. She looked guilty, like she'd been caught red handed. She can wait, I ain't done with my book yet, he thought as he looked back at the page in front of him, I don't know who she thinks she is, tryin' to rush me. He scowled, realizing that he hadn't taken in any of that last paragraph.
He was watching her. She reached over to pick up her cup of tea from the coffee table. She had it with milk, but no sugar. She still seemed embarrassed to have been caught looking at him and was biting at her lower lip. Why am I looking at her lips? he wondered. But she'd already looked up, caught his eye and he looked away, blushing.