The Resurrection of Aubrey Miller by L. B. Simmons Read Free Book Online Page A

exercise.” Palmer looks back to me before adding, “I hope that your maturity level is greater than that of Mr. McMadden’s, seeing as though it’s his turn next. We need to maintain a serious environment for the others who actually hope to gain something from this class.” His voice is stern along with his glare.
    What? Now I’m in trouble?
    Sneering at Kaeleb, I respond, “Yes, sir.” Palmer gives a brisk nod before marching onto the next pairing of people.
    “You’re an ass,” I snip at him, yanking the harness off of my waist and down my legs before stepping out of it.
    “I never said I wasn’t.” He kicks the nylon contraption up and off the ground with his foot, then catches it midair with ease. “I’m sorry, but that shit too was funny not to pass up."
    My face draws tightly and my eyes narrow at his statement. “And what if you’d dropped me?”
    His arrogance lessens and his hazel eyes soften. “I wouldn’t have dropped you.” He maintains eye contact with me and his stare is so full of sincerity, I’m forced to break it.
    My cheeks warm as I cast my glance to the ground, kicking the grass with my Docs.
    “Well, at least you didn’t grope my ass,” I concede before looking back up. His lips form into a crooked smile and he chuckles under his breath. “Who said I didn’t?”
    “I would’ve felt it,” I counter.
    He shakes his head as his eyes fill with humor. “I have ninja hands.” He breaks to step into the harness and pulls it up, securing it before adding, “And you have a nice ass.”
    My mouth pops open, but before I can say anything he steps into my personal space—the very space he knows I hate anyone to breach as evidenced during our proximity awareness exercises—and holds my gaping stare.
    “There was no way I was letting you go.” He pauses briefly and his eyes tighten as they peer into mine. “Our bonds were secured.”
    My eyebrows pinch together in confusion with the intensity of his statement, but then his face softens into a light grin as he holds the rope in front of my face and adds, “These ties can’t be broken.”
    Kaeleb gives me a wink and then turns on his heel, away from me and heads toward the stairs along the side of the wall. Before he takes the first step, he twists his body back around and shouts, “Try to focus on keeping me alive and not the magnificence of my ass!”
    I flip him the bird and another loud cackle fills the air before he makes his way to the top of the wall. Once he’s securely harnessed in, he flies backwards without abandon and rappels masterfully down the side, with absolutely no help from me.
    And it’s a good thing.
    Because Mr. McMadden does, in fact, have a magnificent derrière.
    Not that I was looking.

Over the next month, Quinn and Kaeleb make it their personal mission to try and break through my painfully obvious attempts at obscurity. It’s been non-stop. Kaeleb’s questioning especially.
    Sigh .
    Kaeleb.
    Much to my relief, after several more inquiry-filled classes in trust education, he’s still very much alive, but honestly, some days I really want to kill him—metaphorically speaking, of course.
    It’s usually when we perform the trust fall exercise, which we’re forced to do during every single class. Not once has he performed this exercise without making an asinine comment—normally referencing some random way he could die if I drop him—prior to falling backwards into my arms.
    So recently, as a form of payback for the rappelling incident as well as any stupid comment he makes during class, it has become habit to catch him but then promptly let his body fall to the ground from the safe two foot height. This often results in very inappropriate laughter—his out loud and mine inwardly—from the both of us as well as an extremely disapproving glare from Dr. Palmer.
    No matter how hard he lands, it doesn’t seem to deter his sarcastic remarks about death or his probing questions about my personal life.