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
september '89
Nicholas pushed open the door to Eric and Dom's room, the smell of hot coffee and fresh bagels wafting in with him. A Styrofoam cup balanced precariously on a paper bag in one hand, he kicked the door shut with his foot. Inside, Dom was standing by the closet, a towel slung around his shoulders, his damp hair sticking up in messy spikes as he rifled through his neatly folded clothes.
"Breakfast of champions," Nicholas muttered, setting the bag on Eric's desk and glancing at Dom.
Dom grinned, pulling on a pair of faded Levi's. "That for me too, or are you hoarding carbs this morning?"
"You want a bagel? Go to the dining hall," Nicholas shot back, unwrapping his bagel.
Dom laughed, shaking his head. "So... big night, huh?"
Nicholas froze slightly, but forced himself to stay casual, reaching for one of the bagels. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, come on, Nicky," Dom teased, slinging his towel onto the back of a chair and grabbing a Princeton Tigers sweatshirt. "I saw you playing knight in shining armor for Dylan last night. One second you're there, the next—poof! Gone like Reagan after two terms. Real smooth."
Nicholas narrowed his eyes but kept his tone even. "She had a rough moment. I was just being decent."
"Decent? Please. You practically carried her out of there," Dom laughed. "I mean, hey, if you've got a thing for her, I'm not judging. She's cute. Kind of quiet, but that just makes her stand out more."
Nicholas didn't respond right away, focusing on tearing open a packet of cream cheese for his bagel. "She's just a friend," he said finally, keeping his voice steady, "And don't call me Nicky."
Dom shrugged, clearly unconvinced but uninterested in pushing it further. "Whatever you say. You know I don't care either way. I was too busy handling my own affairs last night, if you know what I mean." He smirked, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms, exuding the effortless charm that made him such a magnet for attention.
Nicholas rolled his eyes, grateful for the shift in focus. "Classy as ever."
"Hey, don't knock it. College is supposed to be fun, remember? We're young, hot, and we've got the world at our feet." Dom winked. "Speaking of which, I'm meeting Monica for lunch. Or maybe brunch. She wasn't clear, but I figure I'll show up."
Nicholas gave him a flat look. "Well have fun with that but nothing happened between Dylan and I."
"Nothing happened," Dom repeated, his tone dripping with mock disbelief. "You're telling me you walked a girl home—who, by the way, is not exactly hard on the eyes—and just left it at that? You're a boy scout then."
