Small talk wasn't exactly her forte. Most people talked about families, which was firmly off limits, or the weather, which was stupid, or lives, which Meg really didn't have. She was better at doing Facebook updates or writing a blog because then she could think over her words, then she was some avatar rather than a real person.
Rubbing the back of her neck, she simply watched Enfys for a moment. That was a habit of hers, one that was probably disconcerting, to keep her eyes on people a little too long, to let the silence linger when common social statuses dictated it should be broken. (It was a habit she'd carried over, like so many of her other little ticks, not that Meghan had any idea.) It was no secret - well, none in her own brain, which was pretty much the only place that emotions like this counted - that Meg had always found Enfys' awkward, slightly off-ness to be attractive. Yeah, okay, she wasn't traditionally pretty like, say, Elaine, but Meghan had thought there was something really intriguing about Enfys.
Not that that was appropriate small talk. The weather would be a better option.
"I'm, uh, I'm Meg. Meghan Fay. I don't know if you remember me."