Lloyd Garmadon x Male Reader |Just My Type|

Chapter 3: Hate The Both of Us

I sit up and make my way toward my bag. I didn't bother to see what Lloyd was doing, but I think he was putting some of his books into his bag to get ready for school. When I approach my bag, I unzip it and pull out my clothes. I had a T-shirt, black jeans, and a grey hoodie. I start to pull off my shirt and hoodie and toss them on the floor. And now, I can see Lloyd staring at me through the corner of my eye. I don't really have a problem with it. Guys check each other out in the locker rooms all the time and this is no different. I'm not really much to behold, though. I have an average body type. I'm not ugly, but I'm not what people would ideally find attractive. But I continue to get dressed anyway. I throw on my shirt and hoodie and then unbuckle my belt. I toss it off to the side and then remove my pants. I slept in my regular clothes last night. People might think it's uncomfortable, but I think it feels fine.

When my pants are down around my ankles, I just kick them off to the side. I'm wearing you're average blue boxers on underneath, so not much was exposed. It's pretty much just the equivalent of wearing shorts. I pick up the black pants that I had in my bag and put my legs in and slide them up over my legs. I zip them up and pick my belt up off the floor and begin to slide it into the loops of my pants. I can still see Lloyd looking at me. I don't know why he keeps looking. I'm really not doing anything that interesting.

I look up at him, still with my hands on my belt that I haven't yet buckled. "Are you done staring at me?" He looked surprised. He probably didn't know that I noticed him looking at me. "I- uh... sorry," he looked down at his bag and I just laughed a little. I thought it was funny how easily embarased he got. Is that mean? I feel like that's mean. Whatever.

I direct my attention back to my belt and buckle it and pick up my bag. I put my old clothes in it and swing it around my back. I noticed a mirror in the corner of Lloyd's room and I make my way over to it so I can fix my hair. I probably have bed head.

I stand in front of the mirror, and I was right. My hair looked like a mess. I play with it and try to get it to lay down flat. My hair is always messy, but at least I make an attempt to fix it. I wanna know how Lloyd is always able to get his hair to lay down perfectly. It's like he's never had a bad hair day in his life. His waves always hung perfectly just above his shoulders. And it's like his hair was the perfect length as well. It was long enough for his waves to be visible, but not too long to the point where his hair weighed itself down and lost its curl.

I remember one time I tried to grow my hair out a little longer, but instead of it actually looking good, I just looked homeless. Now I just keep it at an average length. Sometimes I spike it for special occasions, but not very often.

I eventually get my hair to a point where it's somewhat presentable, and that's good enough for me. I look over at Lloyd and it looks like he's done packing his things up for school.

"Are we ready to go?" I ask.

"You're already ready?" He asks back.

"Mhm," I confirm.

"Oh, well I have a few things that I need to do before we go," he says.

"Alright," I sit back down on his bed.

I pull my phone out of the little side pocket on my bag. I'm never really on my phone much, but I check it every so often. It's one of those really cheap phones that you can get. It's only good for calling and listening to music and it can only run a few apps without crashing and it comes from some unrecognizable brand, but I'm fine with what I have. I know that there's someone out there that has it worse than me, so I try not to complain about the little things.

When I check my phone, I have no messages. As usual. My texts only ever come from my siblings and sometimes my mom. Never any texts from my dad, though. My dad stopped trying to contact me after he had had enough of my mom getting on his back for it. I miss my dad, and he misses me. I don't know why my mom hates it when he tries to talk to me. I've always preferred my dad over my mom. I guess that's why she doesn't like me talking to him. Because she knows I like him better.