“Hey, you!” I grin. I’d kiss Keith, but tables are watching and that’s against policy. Maybe some girls would risk it, but that’s not me. I don’t get in trouble. Ever.
Keith shifts in his seat, avoiding my eyes. “Faith, I need to talk to you.”
Dave stands up and gives me a polite nod. “I’ll leave you two for now.”
Adrenaline flushes through me as Dave walks off. I turn back to Keith, nerves pricking at my skin.
“Okay,” I say. “In the middle of my shift, you need to talk to me? Is everything okay? Did someone… pass away?”
Keith swirls the ice in his water, not meeting my eyes. “Faith… you know I care about you. And our engagement.”
Goosebumps rise on the back of my neck. Not the good kind.
“Of course,” I say. “I do too.”
Why is he bringing this up?
My mind flashes—unfortunately—to the first time Keith and I had sex.
We said we’d wait. We promised. And then, one night, we didn’t.
It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t good, either.
It was… fine.
But ever since, something’s been off.
Like a subtle shift I couldn’t name at first—a flicker in his eyes when he looked at me, like I was suddenly lessshiny.
Like he’d won.
Like he was already halfway out the door.
“Faith,” he says, breaking into my thoughts, “have you heard of Rumspringa?”
I blink. “Rumspringa?”
My eyes dart toward Aunt Miranda, who’s shooting me a look to greet a new table.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “You mean that Amish rite of passage? Where teens go out into the world to see what it’s like before they commit to the community?”
Keith nods, too eagerly. “Exactly. They get, like, a free pass to explore. Then they come back ready to choose their life with clarity.”
I pivot on my heel, scanning my section. Everything looks okay—for now. I glance back at him, my voice flat. “Okay... and what does that have to do with us?”
He clears his throat. “I just found out I’m going to D.C. for the summer. Working with my dad.”
A small chill slides down my spine. “So we’re not spending the summer together.”
“Right. And I was thinking—since we’re getting married next summer, and we’re still young?—”
“We’re still young,” I repeat. My pulse is starting to spike. Aunt Miranda’s still staring at me, but I can’t move. I feel nailed to the floor. “Just say it, Keith. Whatever it is.”
He exhales, like this is a monologue he’s been practicing in the mirror.
“Washington’s a big opportunity. And you’ll be here, doing your thing. So I thought—maybe we take a little break. Just for the summer. Like a Rumspringa of sorts.”
He chuckles, as if this is charming. “Then when I’m back in July, we pick things up again. No pressure.”
