Miles squeezes my hand. "You ready?"

Deep breath. Almost. Yeah. I think I am. No, I absolutely am. I nod. "Yes."

"Do the honors." He takes my hand and places it on the computer mouse.

Eyes open. The cursor hovers over "Submit Application." Okay. I can do this. I press my finger down until the mouse clicks.

Submitting…

Thank you for submitting to Harvard Medical School. Check your email for a submission confirmation.

I let out something suspiciously close to a scream. "Oh my God." I throw my arms around Miles and kiss him like the goddamn ship is going down.

His body relaxes into mine. He digs his hands into my hair and pulls our lips apart. "Honey, you have six of these to go. I can't take the blue balls if you do this every time."

"Too bad."

"Your parents will hear."

"Too bad for them."

"Oh yeah?" He slides his hand under my wool skirt and runs his fingers over the seam of my tights. "Better get these off."

"Okay, point taken." I navigate to the next page. Yale. Aim high, right? We spent the morning filling these out. Now there's nothing left to do but submit them.

I squeeze Miles with one hand and with the other...

Click!

Submitting...

Thank you for submitting to Yale Medical School.

Miles presses his lips into my neck. "You're such a little nerd."

"Jealous?"

"Hey! I'm a rock star. Have some respect." He finds the top of my tights and tugs them down ever so gently. "Or else I'll force you to respect me."

"We have five to go."

"You can go while you come."

"Okay, I don't want my parents to hear," I say. "They were very hospitable accepting a last-minute guest. And a depraved rock star no less."

"Your parents love me more than you do."

I kiss him on the forehead. "That's not possible."

It's the day after Christmas, and Miles has been here, in my parents' Newport Beach place, for a week. Things between me and my parents were strained at first, but I had a heart-to-heart with Mom and Dad. We sat at the dining-room table until midnight, crying and laughing, and trading stories about Rosie and how much we missed her. Mom even put one of the family pictures back up.

"Well, we both know you'll never manage to be quiet," he says.

"So you'll have to live with blue balls."

"No, I'll have to invent some kind of catastrophe so your parents are called to the hospital and we have the place to ourselves."

"They're going out to dinner tonight," I say.

"That's hours away."

He slides his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. My ass is presses against his erection. Yes, it would feel amazing to fuck Miles again, but I'm a little preoccupied.

"In due time," I say. "You're supposed to be supporting me."

He grabs the mouse and navigates to the next page. UCSF. "You want me to do the honors?"

"Yes, please."

Click.

Submitting…

Thank you for submitting to UCSF!

"Why are you leaving tomorrow?" I ask. "Does Sinful Serenade really need its singer that badly?"

"Desperately." He runs his hands over my shoulders. "Why don't you come with me?"

Next application. Stanford. Click. Submitting… Done.

"I can't," I say. "I have school. And work."

"You're off work until your semester starts. It's an international tour. Our first international tour. You can be a part of history." He presses his lips to my neck. "And it ends the second day of school."

Next application. UCLA. Click. Submitting… Done.

"You want to take me to Tokyo and Osaka and Madrid and London?" I ask.

"And Paris and Berlin and a few other cities I don't remember." He turns me around so we're face to face. "Come. We can hang out backstage every night and tour fantastic cities every day."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." He rubs my shoulders. "I want you to come. And to tour with me."

A million excuses pop into my brain, but none of them matter. Traveling the world with my hot rock-star boyfriend—I'd be a fool to say no.

"Okay," I say.

"That's it—okay?"

"Hell to the yes! Better?"

"Much."

I turn back around so I'm facing the computer. One more application. The one I was dreading for a million years.

UCI.

I don't know where I'll be this time next year, but wherever I am, I won't be running from anything.

Click. Submitting… Done.

Miles sucks on my earlobe. "You know we have to celebrate."

"When my parents leave."

"Now." He pulls my tights to my knees. "And when your parents leave."

I can live with that.