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
It's just past 11 PM, and Dylan stands in front of her vanity, staring blankly at her reflection. Her chest feels heavy, the weight of the evening pressing down on her like a tidal wave. Saying goodbye to Carter and Katie had been harder than she'd expected. The sight of Katie's tearful smile and Carter's reassuring jokes lingered in her mind, their goodbyes outside her house marking the beginning of an ending she wasn't ready for.
Tomorrow, she'd be leaving for Princeton with Nicholas and Eric. The thought should have been exciting—should have felt like the fresh start she once dreamed of—but instead, it left her aching. Everyone was scattering, their lives pulling in different directions, and no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, it felt like a part of her was being left behind.
She pulls open her drawer, her fingers brushing over her usual cotton pajamas before hesitating. Instead, she grabs the pale pink satin slip buried at the back. She hardly ever wore it—too delicate, too revealing—but tonight, the smooth fabric feels right against her fingertips. Sliding it on, the satin glides over her skin, soft and cool, and when she looks at herself in the mirror, something stirs in her chest.
Her reflection surprises her. There's a vulnerability in her expression, a rawness she doesn't usually let herself feel. But beneath it, there's something else—a flicker of frustration, restlessness. The sadness she'd been carrying all evening is still there, but it twists into something sharper, deeper. She wants to feel close to him, to be held, to forget the ache of goodbyes and uncertainty. But the longer she stares at herself, the more she realizes it's not just comfort she craves.
Her emotions churn—grief mixing with anger, sadness bleeding into longing. She's frustrated, but not just with her circumstances. It's Nicholas she can't stop thinking about. His words, his voice, the way he'd looked at her when he'd promised to come over. The way he'd always looked at her. Tonight, more than ever, she wants him to see her—not just as Dylan. She wants to be more, to be desired, to feel something real and undeniable.
Dylan finishes combing her hair, moving a stray lock away from her face. The evening has stretched on longer than she expected, and she feels herself finally winding down, even if the weight of the night hasn't fully left her. She hears it before she sees him—the soft, steady rustling climbing the balcony. She knows it's Nicholas even before he comes into view. The familiar sound of him moving, so quiet and careful, makes her heart flutter in a way she hasn't quite experienced before.
Tonight feels different. The house is quiet, everyone asleep, and the air feels almost too still, leaving the space between them to feel more private than usual. It's late, and everything around them seems softer, more muted. Even the hum of the city outside feels distant, almost like a forgotten background to the tension building in the room.
