In 1988 when Dylan Montgomery moves to Beverly Hills after her mother remarries, she must navigate the challenges of fitting into a glamorous but daunting upper-class life. Living across from the charmingly cocky Nicholas and his introspective broth...
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UPPER CLASS | cherriasian
august '88
My mother was married for the second time in her life only two months after meeting my step dad — but saying that word makes me ill. She had met Tom specifically on our trip to California for my seventeenth birthday in May where she saved up all year working overtime just to afford a week trip for two. One which had diminished to a five day trip when our flight was cancelled by a storm. Just a week after their small wedding at the Amalfi Coast in the middle of August, we've left our one story home of Springfield and were able to fly first class while our belongings were delivered especially. Our flight wasn't cancelled, our expenses weren't reimbursed, nor did we worry about having to pay more for our carry ons — it even seemed like the flight attendants were kinder this time.
When the plane touched down in L.A. with a shocked like jolt, I felt a knot tighten in my stomach that I sometimes still feel today. This was the way—my new life awaited just outside those airport doors. The first-class cabin had felt surreal, a luxury I'd never experienced, but somehow stepping into the sunny chaos of Los Angeles made me acutely aware of how out of place I truly was.
When we drove through the streets of Beverly Hills, my eyes darted between the sprawling mansions and sleek sports cars gliding past us, almost like I couldn't look away from what was to come for myself. It was like a scene from a movie—a far cry from the modest neighborhoods of Springfield that I'd never look back at. The entire car ride I tried to suppress the discomfort bubbling inside me.
Once we arrived at our new home, I stood in front of the massive house, its marble facade gleaming in the afternoon sun. It was a glory compared to the single-story home I'd shared with my mother, with its small yard and peeling paint. I felt like an imposter, standing on the threshold of a life that felt utterly foreign. When cars cruised by, slowing down when noticing the movers I felt like I was the spectacle of something oddly.
"Oh look at it!" my mother exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement. I managed a weak smile, but my heart was weak, almost like I hadn't thought much of what was to come like her. Instead I had felt it at the bottom of my stomach, a sort of twisted sensation I only ever felt when in line for the scariest roller coaster at a carnival.
Unpacking felt like an eternity—boxes everywhere, and the echo of my mother's laughter as she chatted with Tom on the phone who was seemingly away for business. Each item I pulled out was a reminder of my old life, and I felt a pang of nostalgia for the simplicity I'd known. When trying to find a place for my clutter it seemed that it hadn't a place despite the amount of area I had. I put away clothes and books, but the more I unpacked, the more I felt the weight of expectation settle on my shoulders. A part of me felt like I needed something new more and more.
The neighborhood was quieter than I expected, but the luxury around me was overwhelming and in a way it felt overbearing. I had wandered down the street that golden afternoon, staring long at the manicured lawns and glittering aqua pools.
After a lap around the block I was sure to be home without any chance of interaction until I noticed two figures across the way from my new home. At first, I watched them from a distance, walking ever so slowly to my destination
There was one boy, with his easy smile and confident stance, who seemed to dominate the space. He had his hands at his hips when he looked like he was listening to the other boy. But it was the tension between him and what I assumed to be his brother that caught my attention. The slimmer one stood with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed in frustration, while the broader one gestured animatedly, his charm on full display but his eyes betraying something deeper. Almost like he was making a mockery of someone or something.
As I lingered from afar, I felt like an intruder. All I wanted to do was quickly run into my home, yet I couldn't pull myself away. There was something raw and real about their argument, a glimpse of vulnerability that made them more than just privileged boys in my eyes. Or perhaps at the time I was just a nosy new neighbor. The broader brother's voice rose, laced with irritation, while the slimmer brother's quiet words cut through the noise with surprising intensity.
"Why can't you just understand?" the slimmer one said, his tone steady but tinged with hurt. "It's not always aboutyou, Nick."
Nick sucked in a sharp breath before chuckling, "C'mom Eric don't be like that. You know it was just a little fun at the country club party."
"Fun? You turned it into a joke!" Eric shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Do you even care about anyone besides yourself?"
Nick shrugged, his casual demeanor masking the tension beneath. "I'm just looking out for us — You can't just spend every day listening to our parents and chasing after some stupid dream."
"Why not? It's my life, too! I'm tired of living in your fucking shadow," Eric snapped, his eyes blazing. "You don't get to dictate what I want. I'm not you!"
He sounded hurt, not offended, but truly hurt, like this Nick had done something. Realizing this now these brothers were more than the glossy surface their wealth suggested. More than what I could have ever initially thought back then. They were complicated, just like me.
I adverted my eyes as I tried my best to make headway to my front door, which seemed like an eternity to get to with our front yard and driveway. A sweeping driveway, lined with perfectly manicured hedges and vibrant flower beds, led to an imposing door entrance, made from rich mahogany and with ornate stone columns. The driveway was wide, adorned with palm trees that seemed perfectly aligned. And it curved gracefully towards the entrance.
Without my knowledge both boys turned to look at me, their conversation forgotten, staring at the back of my head as I tried to escape their encounter.
Nicholas flashed a grin, charming as ever, while Eric's expression softened, intrigued. They turned to one another with the look still on their faces, "Hey, you new around here or something?" I heard the Nick brother call out to me from behind, crossing his arms, "Cause it's not nice to listen in on people's conversations."
I could hear the smugness in his voice. I could even imagine the way he looked behind me, arms finally unfolded and his hand out beside him as he tried to poke at me. I felt a mixture of annoyance and curiosity swirl inside me. I couldn't tell if I was more frustrated by Nicholas's flippant attitude or intrigued by Eric's quiet strength.
I glanced behind my shoulder finding him in the way I had imagined and I scoffed rolling my eyes. I had a closer look at the pair now.
Nick stood tall and athletic, his build reflecting that he clearly had spent countless hours on the tennis court and in the gym. He had tousled, sun-kissed hair that framed his chiseled jawline, like a frame of a relaxed, effortless charm. His eyes were deep brown almost like they sparkled with mischief. He was wearing a fitted, white polo shirt that showed his broad shoulders and toned physique, tucked neatly into tailored navy shorts that fell just above his knees. A sleek, designer watch glinted on his wrist from the California sun that hit my eyes like a glare. However it was the smirk on his face that was making me flinch.
His brother Eric exuded a different but equally striking presence. Slightly taller, he was leaner, with a more angular physique, a graceful elegance that made him stand out. His dark hair was styled in a neat cut, and his blue eyes offered a cool contrast to his brother's warmth. He was wearing a crisp, light blue button-up shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, paired with fitted khaki pants that emphasized his long legs. His shoes were polished loafers, as if they were never even worn before. The way he was looking at me was very different from his brother. I actually couldn't read what he was thinking.
With another blink of an eye I turned my head away from the pair, reaching the door before another word could be said between us. First class may have been nice and the mansions were beautiful but I don't think I could stand people like that. Country club parties? I hadn't planned to cross paths with them ever again, but I was wrong for ever thinking plans never fall through.
