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 '89
The first-class cabin of the plane was a cocoon of luxury—leather seats, warm golden lighting, and flight attendants offering champagne flutes before takeoff. Dylan sank into her window seat, the cool leather giving way beneath her as she slid her bag under the seat in front of her. The murmur of idle conversation and the occasional clink of glasses set the tone: this wasn't just a trip; it was an experience, the kind she was only beginning to grow accustomed to.
Beside her, Carter dropped into his seat, sprawling with the entitlement of someone who believed he owned the space. He rummaged through the amenity kit tucked into the armrest, pulling out a sleep mask and holding it up like a prized find.
"Isn't this cute?" he said, turning to Heather in the aisle seat. "I should take this home as a souvenir."
"Or you could act like you've flown first class before," Heather quipped, her tone as dry as the champagne she'd declined earlier. She stretched out her legs, her designer flats peeking out beneath crisp linen pants.
"I'm enhancing the experience," Carter replied, popping a complimentary chocolate into his mouth. "Besides, you love it when I embarrass you."
Dylan smiled faintly at their banter. If Katie didn't know her so well, Dylan might have admitted she didn't think Carter and Heather's relationship was as bad as the others claimed. Sure, Carter could be obnoxious—his habit of crossing boundaries was well-known—but he wasn't entirely awful. Heather's paranoia and sharp retorts often felt warranted. After all, Dylan could only imagine her own frustration if she'd caught Christian calling other girls behind her back. Not that she needed to imagine too hard—looking back, it was likely he had, and she just never found out.
The distraction was welcome. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind: breaking up with Christian before her debutante ball, Nicholas stepping in to save the night with that dance, Eric and Xavier's summer fling coming to an end. Things with her friends were finally smoothing out—the tension easing, the laughter lighter. For the first time in months, they felt like themselves again.
But not everything was resolved. Not with Nicholas.
He hadn't brought up that night, and neither had she. No one else seemed to suspect anything had changed between them, which was a relief. Dylan wasn't ready to face her friends' opinions—or her own feelings—just yet.
"Dylan?" Heather's voice cut into her thoughts. "Are you ordering something, or...?"
Dylan blinked. The flight attendant had returned with drinks and warm towels. She waved off the champagne and asked for sparkling water instead, ignoring Carter's raised eyebrow.
"What? No bubbly?" he teased, nudging her arm.
"I'm pacing myself," she replied, forcing a smile. "It's a long flight."
