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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
UPPER CLASS | cherriasian
february '89
The next day, Dylan couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that had been gnawing at her since the match. She hadn't had the chance to check in on Nicholas, not after everything that had happened—his father's public outburst, the way he'd stormed off with him, the crushing loss to Christian. It all felt like too much, and Dylan couldn't help but feel that she had to reach out. Not just because of his dad's harsh reaction, but because there was something more to Nicholas. Something beneath that tough exterior. But would it be... weird? Strange even for her to express some sort of care?
She wasn't sure what she would say to him—she hadn't planned on calling him at all, but the guilt had built up overnight. And seeing how he had looked after the match, defeated in a way that didn't seem like just losing a game... it stuck with her. Like he was some kid she wanted to make sure was okay after scraping his knee. Seeing Nicholas mad or angry was common, but something about his sadness was deeper.
It was stupid, she told herself. Why should she care? She was just a random girl to him, right? Nicholas is an asshole. Totally spoiled and annoying. But something about Nicholas's prideful silence and the way he'd reacted to his father made her feel like she should do something—anything.
Dylan paced back and forth in her room, the rotary phone cord twisting around her fingers. It wasn't that she didn't want to call—she did—but the anxiety of doing it, of putting herself out there, made her feel like she was teetering on the edge of something she wasn't sure she understood. Finally, she hit the last number and brought the phone to her ear, trying to steady her breath as the line rang.
Ring...
Ring...
After what felt like an eternity, he picked up.
"Hello?" Nicholas's voice sounded tired, rough around the edges, but there was still that sharpness to it that made Dylan hesitate.
"Hey, um, it's Dylan," she said, nervously trying to make it sound casual. "I just wanted to check on you. After the match yesterday, I saw what happened with your dad, and... I don't know, I just thought I should see how you're doing."
There was a long pause on the other end, and then Nicholas spoke, his voice more clipped now. "I'm fine," he replied, but it was clear he wasn't. "You don't have to worry about me."
Dylan felt a twinge of disappointment. It was like a wall went up instantly. She could tell he was trying to not acknowledge yesterday's events, but she couldn't just ignore it.
"I just... I don't know. I didn't like the way your dad treated you. That wasn't right," she said, her voice soft but insistent. "You're a great player, Nicholas. You don't deserve that."
