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
september '89
The shift at the campus library ended with the familiar buzz of overhead fluorescents and the smell of old pages lingering on Dylan's sleeves. She clocked out with a sigh, her legs aching from standing too long behind the returns desk, and pulled on her windbreaker as she stepped outside into the cool night air.
Eric was waiting for her by the bike rack, bouncing slightly on his heels like he always did when he was trying to warm up. He offered a crooked smile when he spotted her.
"Rough shift?"
"You know it's bad when someone asks where 'the books' are. No specifics. Just... books."
Eric chuckled, falling into step beside her. "You ready to study? We still have that calc worksheet due tomorrow."
"Unfortunately, yes. Your room or mine?" she joked, bumping his arm.
Eric winced. "Actually... I gave Dom the room for a few hours."
Dylan gave him a slow, pointed look. "You... what?"
"He asked if he could use it for a few hours," Eric said, scratching the back of his neck. "Didn't say why, but he had that Dom face. You know."
"Ew."
"I know."
"So basically," she sighed, "our only option is my dorm."
The moment they stepped into her dorm hallway, the faint bass of laughter and muffled voices hit her like a warning signal. Dylan paused, listening. Yep—too familiar. Too loud. And coming from her room.
She glanced at Eric.
"Uh oh."
He looked amused. "Should I be scared?"
She unlocked her door and pushed it open slowly, hoping she was wrong.
She wasn't.
"Of course," she muttered.
Olivia was sprawled across her desk chair, chopsticks in hand, slurping noodles without shame. Crystal had kicked off her sneakers and tucked herself into Dylan's bean bag chair like she owned it. Elliot was on the floor, sorting through takeout containers. And then there was Nicholas—leaning back against her bed with one leg stretched out.
He looked up, met her eyes for a second before glancing at his brother, and smirked. "Well, look who finally made it."
Dylan blinked. "What... is happening?"
"Dinner," Olivia said cheerfully, twirling noodles. "We figured you wouldn't mind."
