CHAPTER SIX
In a fitting room mirror, Cyrus turned and inspected himself wearing a blue denim Oxford that he left untucked, a nice pair of khakis, and his brand-new swollen eye that he got for free.
It was tender to the touch. He pushed the red lump under his eye socket, hoping the swelling was better. A river of hurt exploded down his face. He let out a little cry, trying not to wince.
The bastards broke his sunglasses too, so he couldn’t use those to hide his eye.
He raised a blue slushie cup to the swelling—the only first aid kit he could afford between Jules’s apartment and this store.
He buttoned the sleeves and regarded his sorry state. At least the clothes were fine. His mother might have said he looked handsome if it weren’t for the swollen eye.
He definitely wasn’t going by
