Here's To Us [Shourtney]

7. And remember to use your sassy legs.

Heyaaa, how are you doin'?

Honestly, even though I'm grateful you guys kinda multiplied out of nowhere to read this story, I'm feeling really pressured when I write a chapter. Hope you guys don't take it too hard on me if I make a mistake, I'm very open to constructive criticism but I am very much afraid of mean people. :(

Anyway, I'm glad you guys are loving this story so far! Shall we begin? Shayne's POV and see ya!

-/-/-

As you know, I made a list of what Courtney does at the apartment, and most of what's on the list were good things. The bad things, I don't put in, mainly because they're little habits of hers that tick me off only slightly. Of course, those small habits build up into big ones that you can find constantly annoying, not giving you any peace in your home.

"Courtney!" I shout from the bathroom. "I thought you put the towels in already!"

"What?!" she shouts from outside the bathroom.

"Where are the towels?!" I yell back.

"A, E, I, O, U!"

"Not vowels! Towels!"

"Five letters, man," she says, opening the door. "A, E, I, O, U."

"I said towels, Courtney," I reply, peeking out of the shower curtain.

"Oh, I forgot to put them in," she mumbles before exiting the bathroom to hand me a towel. "I seriously couldn't understand why you were asking about vowels."

Small habits, as I said, turn into big habits. This next one happened the day after the whole vowel-towel incident:

"The heck are these?" I mumble as I look at the crazy amount of dust combined with eyeshadow on the sink. "Courtney, why are these here?"

"Oh, I forgot to sweep them into the bin," she tells me as she passes by to put some lipstick on. "Yeah, my bad." When she leaves the apartment, I stare at the door in confusion. Why didn't she sweep them?

Now, yes, I've liked Courtney for years and I've seen too many gross (cute) parts of this gross (cute) human being, but I liked keeping the apartment perfectly organized that Courtney's forgetfulness just ticked me off too much after the next few days. As every legally bound husband would do, I asked her about it.

"So," I begin as I enter the bedroom, and she's just lying down on the bed with her socks on the floor, "we need to talk about something."

"What's up?" she asks, sitting up straight.

"As your husband and roommate and co-worker and friend, I'd like to inform you that, uh... you're being a little too forgetful that I am your husband and roommate and co-worker and friend," I attempt to explain. "Since we live together, I just kinda wanna suggest that, you know, you do your part in keeping this place organized, maybe?"

Courtney gives me what I call the MP look: it's when she purses her lips and glares at me from head to toe, looking like Miranda Priestly from The Devil Wears Prada. I coined the term when we watched it last night too. She then tells me, "I do keep this place organized, especially when you aren't in here. And let us remember, things would have been different if you moved into my apartment, but it happened the other way around. I think I have the legal obligation to do as I please."

"I'm allowing you, but just clean up," I retort, crossing my arms. "It's like the set of Girls Are Gross all over again. Not that I hate gross people, being one myself, but I like keeping this place cleaned. And besides, your stuff already takes up most of the space in here, so I think I have the right to complain about you getting a bit messy sometimes. Just... too many products for hair, face, makeup."