Covert Affairs

Is That Good Enough?

As I lay in my bed, enveloped in the warmth of my covers, the silence was abruptly shattered by the sound of loud banging on my door. My eyes shot open in annoyance as I tried to make sense of what was happening. It was too early in the morning for anyone to be awake, let alone knocking on my door. Have the people at this school ever heard of office hours? I understand the whole, ready anytime anywhere part of our Cov' Ops training but I didn't think Mr. Solomon meant "anytime" literally.

As I rubbed my sleepy eyes, I peered out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of sunlight, but there was no sign of it. The sky was still covered in a blanket of darkness, and the world outside was silent and still. Okay, maybe it was a dream.

But the knocking persisted, growing louder and more urgent, until it was impossible to ignore. As I grudgingly rose from my bed, I could feel my frustration mounting. Who could be so rude as to wake me up at this ungodly hour? Then, without warning, there was a siren outside of the door blasting out my eardrums.

There are very few times that I believe murder is the answer, this is one of those times. Fucking hell, was that really necessary? Everyone in the room groaned and tried to cover their ears, but I was already up and moving toward the door. I had to see who was causing all this commotion. I pushed aside the heavy covers and hastily pulled on a sweatshirt, struggling to wipe the sleep from my eyes and tame the bedhead I know I must have.

The amount of times I thought about physically harming the person behind this door should be illegal. When I angrily opened the door, a smirking face greeted me. I already knew who it was, because my entire existence instinctively reacts to his presence, but it took my groggy eyes and half asleep brain quite a while before confirming my speculations. He grinned at me with his usual energy.

"Morning Snow," he hummed, "Are you awake yet?"

I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus on his face. This had to be real – there was no mistaking his smug expression. "Tyler?" The anger in my voice was dulled by the yawn I let out, clearly I'm exhausted.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He held up a blow horn, the source of the siren that had woken us all up. "Did I wake you?" he shouted, the sound assaulting my ears once more.

"Yes, you asshole!" I snatched the horn from him and threw it down the hall, seething with anger. "Boys are not allowed in this wing," I muttered, cursing the grogginess in my voice.

He just grinned at me, unfazed by my annoyance. "Nice sweatshirt," he said, eyeing my attire. I looked down, realizing that in my rush to answer the door I grabbed his sweatshirt. It made me painfully aware of how awful I looked and how fucking perfect he looked for it being so goddamned early in the morning.

"You're not answering my question." I ignored his statement, crossing my arms.

"It's a wonderful morning..." He started before I cut him off.

"You. Are. Not. Answering. My. Question!" I argued as I grew farther away from my once peaceful sleep.

"Snow, you didn't let me finish," he said, his grin growing wider. "It's a wonderful morning to spy."

My heart sank. I knew what that meant. Another mission.

"So we are going on a mission?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. "At 2:30 in the morning?"

"At 2:37 am, to be exact," he replied, checking his watch. His snarky reply did nothing for how annoyed I was just looking at him. No surprise Mr. Solomon would do this.

I punched him hard on the arm. "You literally could've led with that."

"Ow, what was that for?" he whined, rubbing his arm.