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Rumor has it that Rose Landry won’t go with anyone to homecoming unless her best friend, the former hockey star turned social pariah Shane Hollander, has a date too. Convinced they might have a chance with the hottest junior at Danforth Prep, Shane’s old friends enlist his replacement, transfer student Ilya Rozanov, to take one for the team. No one predicts how hard and fast they’ll fall.
Or, a 10 Things I Hate About You AU
The first thing Svetlana tells him is that Rose Landry and Shane Hollander are untouchable.
Ilya turns his head from its place in her lap to watch the pair across the courtyard. They were in his French seminar this morning: Rose conjugating efficiently at the fancy smartboard installed at the front and Hollander sitting stiffly two seats over, fiddling with the mandatory tie that Danforth Prep requires during class time. He had noticed them, of course—it was a small room and they were both by far the most attractive people in it, not to mention clearly the most proficient, but Ilya had spent half of the class frantically trying to translate from French into Russian into English and the other half being pissed off that it was nine in the morning, that his Russian would not fulfill the language requirement, and that this stupid class was the only one that fit into his schedule.
Now, Rose’s strawberry blonde tresses cascade over her shoulder as she makes notes on a tablet and takes a delicate bite of a sandwich. Hollander’s sharp profile is in fixed concentration on whatever novel he’s reading with a pencil trapped between his teeth. They make an undeniably beautiful couple. But even though they’re angled toward each other, they’re sitting far enough away that Hollander has to lean over to wordlessly hand over a cup of coffee. Neither of them look up during the exchange. It’s easy, comfortable. It reminds Ilya of him and Svetlana. Intimate, but not exactly romantic.
“Why? They don’t look like a couple,” he says, looking back up at Svetlana.
“They’re not. They dated last fall, while Hollander was still on the hockey team. The golden couple, really, campus royalty. Then…” She pauses and then switches to Russian, even though they both agreed that they need to speak in English so that Ilya can practice. “He came out after winter break and then quit two weeks later, right before playoffs started. Everyone was furious, obviously, except for, apparently, Rose. And I’ve seen him be civil with a few guys on the team, I guess. But since then, they mostly just stick together.”
Ilya sees it now, the invisible perimeter around them. Clusters of students give them a wide berth as they walk past and sit far enough away that there is space on either side of them, even though the courtyard is otherwise full. Every now and then, people glance at them, before quickly turning away. Surely they’ve noticed, but their faces don’t give anything away, attention focused solely within their bubble.
“People care Hollander is gay? I thought this school is supposed to be open-minded, you said I wouldn’t have to hide here.”
“As open-minded as a bunch of rich fucks can be,” Svetlana says wryly. “But no, most of the team has to be pretty good about it; your captain, Scott Hunter, has a boyfriend at the university and, last I heard, I think your right winger, Troy Barrett, is hooking up with the editor of the school paper. You’ll be fine. I think most people were just mad about losing their star center. Which, fair. If he were still playing you would probably be second line. Or playing wing.”
Ilya lets out a noise of protest. “Take that back!”
“I’m serious. He already had the A as a sophomore and was on the starting line his freshman year. You know that’s unheard of. Incredibly fast, a really excellent playmaker. They won the championship that year. It’s a shame, there were already scouts circling around him.”
“No one knows. Or no one will say anything, anyway.”
Rose’s laughter floats across the courtyard, pulling his gaze back to them, but it’s Hollander who holds his interest as he shakes his head fondly, his face open, looking infinitely more relaxed than he did in class that morning. Ilya wonders if he could make Hollander look at him like that.
He likes pretty things and pretty people. He likes a challenge even more.
“So,” he drawls in English after a long pause. “What I am hearing is that they are both single.”
“It’s impossible,” she laughs. “Rose is still sweet. Everyone adores her, but she’s tightened up her close circle to just a few people from student council and theater, and she’s shut down anyone who has dared to show even an inkling of romantic interest in her since she broke up with Hollander. As for Hollander, well, no one’s trying, but he doesn’t give anyone the time of day anyway. I’m telling you, Ilyusha, they do not date.”
“Even me?” He lolls his head back up to look at Svetlana, her wild auburn curls and gray eyes. A cheshire grin spreads over his face.
She just raises her eyebrows and smirks at him, unimpressed. “Even you.”
“Try,” she scoffs. “It’s your funeral.” She pats him once, twice on the cheek before running her fingers through his curls.
Ilya closes his eyes and purrs under the attention. “We’ll see.”
When he gets up to go find his next class, he steals one last glance across the courtyard. Rose Landry is gone, but Shane Hollander is looking straight at him.
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