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
april '89
"Okay, let's just get this out of the way."
Katie announced her dramatic statement the moment they settled into her family's luxurious media room, the glow of the massive TV casting soft shadows against the dark walls. She tossed her bag onto a plush ottoman, her golden hair catching the faint light as she flopped onto the oversized sectional sofa. Dylan sat curled up in the corner of the couch, pulling a throw blanket around her shoulders as the buttery scent of popcorn filled the air.
"Heather's officially lost it. She's convinced Carter and I are plotting some secret love affair or something."
Dylan blinked in surprise. "Wait, what? Why would she think that?"
Katie let out an exasperated sigh. "Because Carter's been calling me a lot recently. Like, a lot. It's not even a big deal! He just calls to talk about random stuff—school, college, whatever. But Heather overheard him on the phone with me the other night, and she's been on this rampage ever since."
"She overheard?" Dylan asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn.
"Apparently, she came over to his house while we were talking. And now she's accusing me of trying to steal her boyfriend," Katie said, throwing her hands up in frustration. "It's ridiculous."
Dylan frowned. "Okay, but, Katie... are you sure she's just being paranoid? You and Carter did have a thing."
Katie groaned, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. "Oh my God, freshman year. Ancient history. We're friends now, nothing else."
"Are you, though?" Dylan pressed, tilting her head.
Katie sat up straighter, her expression defensive. "Yes, we are. I swear. Carter and I are just friends."
Dylan gave her a skeptical look, crossing her arms. "Katie, come on. You still like him, don't you?"
Katie froze, then scoffed. "No. Stop it. I'm serious—it's not like that anymore."
Dylan wasn't buying it. "You sure? Because I've seen how you look at him sometimes. And, let's be real, you don't exactly like Heather."
Katie grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. "No one likes Heather, Dylan! She's controlling and—uh—Heather?"
"Or," Dylan said, catching the pillow, "she's just a girl who knows when another girl still has feelings for her boyfriend."
Katie groaned dramatically, grabbing another pillow to hide her face. "You're the worst. I'm telling you, there's nothing going on."
"Uh-huh," Dylan said, smirking.
Katie peeked out from behind the pillow, narrowing her eyes. "You're one to talk. Aren't we supposed to be dissecting your mess? What's going on with Christian—or better yet, Nicholas?"
