Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

Gen

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Yuna Hollander, Original Characters, Yuna's College Friends

Additional Tags:

Background Hollanov, Past Bullying, Microaggressions, Casual Racism, college Reunion, Karma is a Bitch

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-08 Words: 3,409 Chapters: 1/1

You Can't Sit With Us

Summary

Yuna Hollander attends her college reunion and encounters her former Mean Girl nemesis and tormentor, who she hasn't seen in 35 years.

Having a superstar athlete millionaire son is a pretty good Uno Reverse card for the dorm bully, as it turns out.

Notes

This is very quick, just a lil idea I had.

I have given Yuna my own alma mater of Bryn Mawr College because it's my fic and I can do what I want. She probably went to McGill and met David there but hey, that could have been grad school, amirite?

“Oh my GOD, who’s that hot bitch I see?”

Yuna would know that voice anywhere. She turned and saw Cecilia Grant coming out of the common room, a giant grin on her face and a glass of wine in her hand. “Aaaaaaah!” was all she could say as she was enveloped in a crushing hug. “Oh, thank God you’re here.”

“You knew I was coming!”

“No, I mean right now, and not later.” She released Cecilia. “Let me put my stuff away and I’ll be right back down.”

“I’ll come with you. Where’s your room?”

“Um…” Yuna consulted the Post-It she’d been given at registration. “134.” They set off down the hall. “I lived here junior year, but on the second floor.” She opened the door to behold her lodging for the reunion weekend — an empty dorm room. The college provided housing as long as you didn’t mind sleeping a bit rough, like the students did. Some alums preferred to get hotels, but there wasn’t a lot of lodging available in the area around the college and it was just easier to be on campus.

“Bertie and Suze are here, they went over to the bookstore. I just saw on the chat that Amy is getting here after dinner.”

“What about Tatty?”

“She’s not staying here, she’s got Neil and Livvy with her, so they got a hotel room. She said she might camp out overnight tomorrow, though. I’ve got a double room, she can stay with me.”

Yuna stripped off her plane-sweater and pulled out a lighter weight shirt. It was surprisingly toasty in Pennsylvania for early May. “When did you get in?”

“Couple of hours ago. I helped Jessica and Kate set up the common room. There’s lots of snacks and drinks if you’re hungry.”

“I just want some water or seltzer or something.”

“Come on! Don’t forget your lanyard.”

Yuna put her reunion ID badge around her neck and followed Celia to the common room. There were about twenty alums milling around, chatting and catching up. She knew about two-thirds of them.

Bryn Mawr was a very small college with graduating classes of around 350 students, but their year was known for having a strong reunion turnout. The last one, their thirtieth, they’d had almost a whole third of their graduating class attend. Most of this was due to the fact that Jessica, their longtime class president, was the world’s most extroverted person and did a truly phenomenal job keeping them all connected. Yuna had a group chat with her dozen or so closest college friends, most of whom would be here this weekend.

Kind of a lot had happened in her life since their last reunion — some of it national news — so she expected to be fielding a lot of curious questions.

Her arrival was met with cheers and smiles, and she felt her soul settle a little bit. It was hard to explain to someone who hadn’t gone here, but…there was a reason they referred to Bryn Mawr as “the Mothership.” It wasn’t just a place she’d taken classes and made friends. It was a place that had cradled her while she knitted her soul into its adult form, where the plates in her skull had shifted to form the woman she’d always hoped to be. The first time she had brought David here, he’d said “I understand you better now.” Being here always helped her understand herself, too. A loose group of half a dozen friends and acquaintances formed around her, the new arrival.

Jessica came fluttering up to hug her. She was a tiny woman with kinky red hair and massive tortoiseshell glasses. “Oh my God, Yuna, I’m so glad you made it. With the playoffs, I wasn’t sure you could!”

“They don’t start the second round until Tuesday, so I was able to make it,” she said.

“And who are they playing?”

“Philadelphia. It’ll be a hard series. And this is the first time the team’s been in the playoffs for a long time, so honestly, they’re just glad they won the first round.” Jessica nodded, her eyes going vaguely blank. Yuna knew the look — the I want to ask but I’m not sure if it’s rude look. “It’s ok, Jessica. You can ask about it.” The rest of the group were all listening keenly.

“Is Shane okay? I was so worried when…well. When that all happened.”

“It’s not the way anyone wanted it to happen. He and his partner actually had a plan to go public last summer. That video just…beat them to it.”

“God, how you must hate that other player.”

“Hayden? Oh my God, no. He’s Shane’s best friend. He’s an absolute sweetheart and he was devastated over what happened. Really, it wasn’t his fault. None of us are mad at him. It’s the guy who leaked the video we’re holding the grudge against.” She smiled. “But no, Shane is…he’s wonderful. He’s so much lighter without that secret weighing him down. And he’s so happy he can be on the same team with Ilya now. They’re really making that team into something special.”

“Yuna, I gotta tell you…I’ve been a Boston sports fan my whole life,” said Carrie, a woman who’d lived on Yuna’s hall their first two years. “Ilya Rozanov is a legend there. And then I find out that it’s Shane’s fault he left!” Everyone laughed, even Carrie.

Yuna shrugged. “What can I tell you, my son is irresistible!” More laughter.

Cecilia appeared with a can of seltzer and a glass of wine for Yuna. “Did you hear that Addy Brentwood is coming?”

“No!” Yuna said. “She’s gracing us with her presence?”

“Wait, who?” Carrie asked.

“Oh God, were you spared while we were in school?” Jessica said, rolling her eyes.

“She’s a real piece of work. You know that stereotype of the pearl-and-twinset wearing women’s college girl with a horse at home and all of Daddy’s money? The one that none of us are? Well, she is.”

“Eww,” Carrie muttered.

“That would be fine if she wasn’t a massive bitch,” Cecilia said. “She was constantly making racist digs at Yuna. Speaking slowly to her she might not understand even though she knew damn well Yuna was a native English speaker. Asking her if the cafeteria was making her some chop suey, or if she liked Bruce Lee movies.”

“Oh my God,” Carrie said. “Bruce Lee was Chinese!”

“I don’t think she knows the difference,” Yuna said. “She never forgave me for beating her out for honor board president. She’ll smile all sickly sweet to your face and then tell everyone that you slept with your TA.”

“Did she really do that?” Carrie said, hand to her chest.

“Yep. Nobody believed it, though. Everyone knew what she was like.”

At that moment, Bertie and Suze returned from the bookstore and another round of yelling and hugging and wine procurement shelved the entire Addy Brentwood topic for another time.

 

---

 

The college really did it up for reunion weekends. They gave each class funds to stock a dorm lounge with snacks and drinks. Two current students, volunteers, stayed around after the school year was over to be their helpers. Giant tents on the green hosted large meals, and of course, there was never a shortage of booze.

Yuna and her friends camped out at one of their class’s assigned tables for dinner. Part of her felt like she should mingle - her friends had an ongoing group chat, so it’s not like she wasn’t up to date on their lives, and they on hers - but it was just so natural and comfortable to be in their company that she couldn’t bring herself not to enjoy it. There’d be plenty of time for socializing with classmates she didn’t see so often.

They were all gushing over Livvy’s senior photos when Tatty suddenly grabbed her arm. “Incoming. Seven o’clock.”

They all looked…and there was Addy Brentwood. She was decked out like she was going to a garden party in the Hamptons (most of their classmates were wearing jeans and tops or casual dresses) and beaming at each person she greeted like she was running for Senate (oh God, what if she was running for Senate). She was also doing that weird palm-down handshake like she half-expected you to kiss it.

Yuna saw Addy spot her; first recognition, then smug triumph spread across her face. She made a beeline for their table.

“Be casual, be casual,” Bertie muttered. Yuna steadied herself. You are not that young women lonely away from home, feeling out of place, hoping for friends and bullied by a spoiled rich white girl. You are Yuna Fucking Hollander. The NHL commissioner takes your calls, you’re on a first-name basis with Reebok’s head of marketing, and your son is a successful, handsome champion who could probably buy this woman’s entire life ten times over. Get yourself together.

Addy walked right up and stood at Yuna’s side. “Yuna Kimura?” she said.

“Hollander, but yes,” Yuna said, briefly shaking her offered hand.

“Oh, how nice, you married a white man?” Addy said, taking the empty seat next to Yuna without asking.

“Holy shit, did you really just say that?” said Neil, Tatty’s husband.

Addy ignored him. “It’s so nice to see you. I haven’t been able to make it to any of the reunions, so it’s been ages!”

“Yes. Yes, it has.” Yuna could see her friends watching for any signs that Addy recognized her last name. It wasn’t a terribly common name, the sort that would immediately make someone think of Shane if they recognized it at all.

“So where do you live, then?”

“My husband and I live in Ottawa.”

“Oh, in Canada!”

“Yes. I’m Canadian.”

“Really? Since when?”

“Since…birth?”

“Gosh! I didn’t realize there were Chinese people in Canada.”

“Is she for real,” Neal whispered to Tatty.

“Shush, this is the best entertainment we’re going to get all weekend,” Tatty whispered back.

“I’m Japanese, and yes, of course there are.”

“And what does your husband do?”

“He’s in…finance.”

“Oh goodness! How lucky for you.”

“Not really, he’s an economist who works for the Canadian government. It’s not exactly Wall Street penthouse territory.”

“So you work, then?” Addy said, with a tinge of “oh you poor thing” coloring her voice.

“Yes. I’m in…sports management,” she said. She heard Celia snort a little. It was obvious that Addy had no idea about…well, anything…so she’d drag it out as long as possible.

“Do you have kids? I bet they’re so exotic.”

“Jesus Christ,” Suze sighed.

“I have one son, Shane,” she said, putting a slight emphasis on his name. Not a flicker. “He’s thirty-one.”

“Oh my, you got started pretty early!”

“Not that early, I was twenty-five.”

“Is he married? Do you have grandkids?”

“Yes, he got married last summer. No grandkids yet, but I know he and Ilya want children.”

Addy cocked her head. “Ilya? What an unusual name.”

“It’s Russian.”

“Oh, you daughter-in-law is Russian? Oh no…did he have to get one of those mail-order brides? Too shy to meet someone the old fashioned way?” She pouted out her lower lip but her eyes were sparkling with delight at this intelligence that Yuna’s poor son was evidently so awkward that he had to resort to online arranged marriages for hire.

Carrie choked on her water a bit and put a napkin to her mouth. Nobody looked offended…the space between Addy’s assumptions and the reality was so vast that it just made it ridiculous.

The rest of the table was leaning in and watching this exchange like a shootout.

“First of all, I don’t have a daughter-in-law. My son’s husband is Russian, yes. And they met at work."

Addy’s smile did that thing where it got bigger but less sincere. “Oh! Your son is…that way, is he?”

Yuna could hear Celia, on her other side, desperately trying to stifle laughter. “If by ‘that way’ you mean gay, then yes, he is.”

“So how do, um…they plan to have kids? Adopt, or something?”

“That’s not a conversation he’s had with us. It’s not really any of our business.” Or yours, she refrained from adding.

Yuna didn’t assume any of her classmates knew who Shane was, but honestly, it was pretty unusual that someone didn’t. You didn’t have to be a hockey fan to have heard that one of your classmates had a son who was a generational talent and had won three Stanley Cups. There’d been articles about Shane in their alumnae bulletin, the college posted congratulations when he won an award or a Cup on their social media, and Shane himself had given quite a lot of money to the college. As a child he’d come with her to reunions and other events and had fond memories of it. On top of that, Shane had recently made major headlines for his personal life that had transcended the sports press. He and Ilya had been on the cover of Time, for god’s sake.

The bottom line was that you had to be pretty intensely offline or oblivious to be in the college community and not to have at least heard of Shane. Which made this entire conversation all the more hilarious.

“I have two girls and a boy,” Addy gushed. “My son is a neurosurgical resident.”

“That’s great,” Yuna said. She waited, but no more information was offered. “And what do your daughters do?”

“Oh, one’s a lawyer and one’s a musician.” Like this was of no significance. This woman had gone to a women’s college, for fuck’s sake.

“And what about you?” Yuna asked, although she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

“I stopped working when I had my babies. My husband’s in corporate law,” she said, in reverent tones, as if corporate law was the pinnacle of human achievement. “Your son…Shane, was it?” Suze snickered again. “What does he do?”

“He and his husband work together, actually.” How long can I draw this out without straight-up lying. Bertie was biting her lip.

“Oh, they have a little business together? How sweet.” Yuna wondered what Shane would think if she told Addy that he and Ilya owned a drag fashion boutique. If Ilya were here, he would tell her no, is not just boutique, is also salon and makeup studio.

“Not exactly. Shane is a professional athlete.”

“Oh, really? Gosh, I would never have thought!”

“Why?” She knew why, but she wanted to make Addy say it.

“I mean…I’d have thought he’d be in science, or math, or accounting. Something like that. Academic.”

Neil laughed, like he couldn’t believe this was real. Yuna was right there with him. “Why, because Asian people are good at math and science?”

“Oh, I know it’s a stereotype,” Addy said, flapping a hand. “But it’s the good kind, right?”

Yuna didn’t have the bandwidth to get into the ethics of racial profiling. “If you say so.”

“So he can make a living at that? I mean, unless he’s one of these guys making ridiculous millions every year or something.” She chuckled wryly, as if this were the most outlandish notion she’d ever heard in her life. Surely, Yuna’s son could never be one of those guys making ridiculous millions.

That did it for Bertie. She burst out laughing. That set everyone else off, including Yuna. “Oh, my god,” Bertie wheezed. “This is the best day of my life.”

Addy just looked confused. “I’m…I don’t understand what’s funny?”

“Her son is one of those guys,” Tatty snapped.

“What?” Addy said, her eyes going very big.

Everyone was on their phones, doing quick searches. Yuna just sat back, crossed her arms over her chest, and enjoyed the reveal.

Celia held out her phone. “Here is he lifting the Stanley Cup last year. It was his third time winning it, by the way.”

“Here he is in a Rolex ad,” Tatty said.

“Oh, and here he is with his husband on the cover of GQ,” Suze said. Addy stared. She reached out and took the phone from her.

“Um…I…” Her mouth just kept opening and closing.

“His last contract in Montreal was…what was it, Yuna?” Bertie asked. “Twelve million average annual value?”

“Twelve point two.”

“And his husband pulls in just as much.”

It was actually more now with their Ottawa contracts, but Yuna wasn’t going to correct her.

“I just…this is your son?” Addy said, pointing at the screen showing an absolutely devastating professional photo of Shane and Ilya.

“That’s him on the right,” Yuna said, just as a little dig.

“But he’s so handsome.” Like it was shocking. She handed the phone back. “I just can’t believe it.”

Why? Is it so hard to believe that the girl you looked down on, the girl you insulted and belittled, could raise a man like that? A man whose success is measurable in a way that matters to people like you - money and fame and looks?

Should I even bother to tell you that he’s even more of a success in the ways that aren’t measurable? Would it mean anything to you to hear that he is kind and generous, that he mentors everyone around him, that he is in a loving, supportive marriage and that he takes care of all the people in his life? Would you care that my son is a hero to millions of people, kids and adults, and that he’s never let them down, not once…and that he is MY hero, too?

Or do you just care that he’s rich?

She sighed. “I admire my son more than anyone in the world. He’s an amazing person. I wish my husband and I could take all the credit, but he was just born like that. I would have loved to have another child but couldn’t, so Shane gave me one by marrying a wonderful man who is like another son to me. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.” She looked down at the photo. “But yeah, they’re both gorgeous, aren’t they?”

Her friends whooped and cheered as Addy sat there looking like she’d lost the plot entirely. She got up slowly. “Um…well, congrats on…all that,” she said, with a vague motion at Suze’s phone. “I’ll, um…catch up with you later?” She gave them a wan smile and then flounced off, not even bothering to go to a different table, just left the tent entirely.

“Come back when you’ve Googled Shane Hollander,” Bertie called after her.

“Oh my God, that made my whole weekend,” Celia said.

“I don’t know. I feel a little bad,” Yuna said.

“What? No. Yuna, do not waste one second of your emotional energy on that Stepford wife. Were you keeping count of the microaggressions in that conversation?”

“Some of them were straight-up aggressions, nothing micro about them,” Neil said.

“She came here counting on the fact that you’d be living some tiny life that she could mock and make herself feel bigger.”

“But that’s just it!” Yuna said. “What if I were? Bertie, she used to bully you, too! There’s nothing wrong with your life just because your son isn’t a famous hockey player. It shouldn’t matter what my life is like.”

“You just said it. It shouldn’t matter, but it does to her. That’s why it’s okay for you to rub it in her face, on behalf of all of us. Anyway, you got it the worst and we all know it, and we all know why, so I say fuck her.”

“Someone might already be taking care of that,” Neil said, looking at his phone. “Seems like her husband’s being investigated by the SEC.”

“Oh, shit,” Yuna said.

“Serves her right. They all think they’re above ethics or laws, anyway. I’ll go ahead and cheer when they get bitchslapped all the way to federal prison.”

“You’re all so vicious,” Yuna said, grinning.

“Hey, you’re the one whose sons punch people while wearing knife shoes.”

Everyone laughed.

“Will you tell Shane about this?” Celia asked, quietly.

“Oh God, no.”

“Why, would he be mad?”

“Umm…not really. He’d understand the racism, for sure. Anyway it’s not him I’m worried about. Addy might not be my favorite person, but even she doesn’t deserve to be on the wrong end of my son-in-law’s wrath.”