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
january '89
Dylan sat in her bedroom, flipping through a magazine as the sound of Madonna played faintly in the background. It was a lazy Friday afternoon, and for the first time in a while, she felt like she could just relax and not think about anything—or anyone—particularly complicated. But then the phone in the hall rang, cutting through her thoughts.
She felt her heart jump. It was silly, but there was a tiny, hopeful part of her that thought it might be him—the boy from tennis practice. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about their interaction, or the way he'd actually cared to write down her number. So now, she couldn't help it—her pulse quickened just a little at the thought that maybe he'd called again.
Taking a deep breath, she walked over and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Hey. It's Nicholas."
Dylan's heart sank slightly—not that she'd ever admit it. "Oh! Uh, hey," she replied, trying to cover her surprise. "What's up?"
Nicholas's voice was casual, as if this wasn't the last way she'd expected to spend her afternoon. "Just calling to see where you are on the Spanish project. Weren't we supposed to go over it today?"
Dylan's eyes went wide as she suddenly remembered. "Oh. Right. Um, yeah, today... right."
There was a pause on the other end, and she could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "So... should I come over, or what?"
She panicked for a split second. The last thing she needed was Nicholas just showing up at her house, especially with her mom's rules about boys. "Actually, I don't think that's—"
"Great, I'll be there in ten."
Before she could argue further, he hung up, leaving her standing in the hall with the receiver still in her hand. She stared at it, dumbfounded, before hanging up and letting out a groan. Seriously? Of all days...
She quickly glanced around, trying to think of how she could somehow make this work. She'd have to keep him hidden in case either of her parents came home. But knowing Nicholas, that would be easier said than done.
Two minutes later, the doorbell rang, and she practically ran down the stairs, hoping to open the door quicker than she had let. She pulled it open and found Nicholas leaning casually against the doorframe, his Spanish textbook tucked under his arm.
"Nice place," he commented, glancing around with a little smirk almost as if he hadn't been in the house prior.
She gave him a tight smile. "Thanks. And I meant to call you back. You really didn't have to come over."
He just shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "Too late now," he said, looking around curiously.
Dylan sighed, realizing there was no getting out of this. "Alright, let's just go to the living room. My mom's gonna be pissed if she finds out you're here."
