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
They broke apart slowly, laughter bubbling out of Dylan before she could stop it. Nick's grin matched hers, a little crooked, a little smug, but softened by the warmth in his eyes. For a moment they just stood there, grinning at each other like idiots, the music swirling around them but not quite reaching.
Then Nicholas leaned down, brushing his lips near her ear. "Come on," he murmured, low and rough, his fingers brushing her tear streams.
She let him guide her, weaving through the crowd, still lightheaded from both the drinks and the kiss. His touch stayed close, steady against her waist in a way that made her feel anchored and claimed all at once.
When they reached the pool table in the back, Dylan spotted Dom bent over the felt, lining up a shot, Eric lounging with a drink in hand, and Elliot leaning against the wall, cracking jokes as always with his cup overflowing.
Dom glanced up as Nicholas led Dylan right to his side, his brows lifting slightly at how close the two were standing. "Well, well," Dom drawled, cue stick balanced in one hand. "What's going on here?"
Dylan nearly choked on air, her face heating. "Nothing's—"
But Nicholas only smirked. "Relax, Dom," he said coolly, though his thumb brushed the small of Dylan's back like he didn't realize he was still touching her. "Brought Dylan here to watch you lose."
Elliot snorted.
Eric's eyes flicked between them, and though he didn't say anything, Dylan caught the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. He knew. He always knew.
She busied herself with the nearest empty stool, trying to look casual as Nicholas leaned in to grab a pool cue, his shoulder brushing hers on purpose. Her stomach was still fluttering from the kiss, from how unbothered he looked even while their friends were right there, suspicious.
Before she could find a safe joke to toss back, Olivia and Crystal appeared out of nowhere, their wild hair still perfectly in place despite the crowd. Thank god for hairspray.
"Hey!" Crystal exclaimed, her eyes flicking between Dylan and Nicholas instantly.
Olivia hooked her arm through Dylan's the second she got close. "Dylan, where'd you disappear to? One second you're dancing with us, the next you're gone."
Crystal leaned in, grinning slyly. "Yeah, we thought you ran off with that cute guy from earlier. What was his name? Mike? Mark? Whatever—he was totally into you."
Dylan froze. Her cup wobbled in her hand, the ice clinking too loud. "Oh—uh, no. He name was... it doesn't matter." She forced a laugh, but it came out thin.
