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
The smell of pancakes and fresh coffee hit Dylan the moment she stepped out of the car. The salty breeze from the ocean mingled with the faint tang of sizzling bacon wafting from the diner's kitchen, making her stomach growl. The parking lot was packed, the familiar hum of student laughter and playful banter filling the air as clusters of teens leaned against cars or perched on the low stone wall lining the lot. Senior Skip Day was in full swing, and it seemed like every kid from Beverly Hills High had decided Malibu was the place to be.
Dylan climbed out of the back seat of Carter's car, tugging her white linen shorts into place as the sun glinted off the nearby waves. Katie hopped out next to her, adjusting her sunglasses. Eric and Nicholas hopped out the car like they had all the time in the world. Nicholas, naturally, looked like he'd stepped out of an ad for summer casuals—white cotton shirt, crisp bright blue shorts, and aviators that hid whatever smug expression he was wearing. Of course, he looks like that in this weather, Dylan thought, forcing herself to look away before her irritation gave her away.
Inside, every booth was crammed with students, their laughter blending with the clatter of dishes and the low hum of rock playing on the jukebox. A frazzled hostess with a clipboard greeted them, barely glancing up. "It'll be about twenty minutes for a table," she said, already moving on to the next group.
Katie groaned dramatically, earning a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Carter. "If you hadn't taken forever to leave the house, we'd already be eating," he teased, dodging the seriously wounded swat she aimed at his arm.
"Hey! Marissa and Tiffany aren't even here yet — if anything I did everyone a favor," she protested.
The group shuffled to the side near the front windows, where a few kids were already leaning against. Nicholas, always one to act like he owned the place, leaned back against the windowsill, arms crossed casually over his chest. Eric followed suit, quieter but still managing to draw a few glances. Dylan tried not to notice the way Nicholas's shirt hugged his frame just enough to be maddening. She focused instead on Katie, who was flipping through the laminated menu on the wall and debating aloud whether she wanted pancakes or French toast.
"I'm starving," Carter complained, raking a hand through his messy hair. "Can't they just, like, bring out a tray of bacon for us or something?"
"You're always starving," Katie shot back, still scrolling with her finger down the breakfast specials.
Dylan smirked at their usual back-and-forth, leaning against the wall beside Katie when a voice cut through the buzz of chatter.
"Love your shirt."
Dylan turned toward the voice just in time to see a girl with voluminous curly brunette hair and a confident, sunlit smile walking past Nicholas. She wasn't just passing by, though—she paused, her fingers lightly resting on his chest, then sliding down his bicep in a motion so deliberate Dylan couldn't tell if it was casual or calculated. The whole thing took maybe two seconds, but it felt like it hung in the air longer than that.
