“Speaking of fellowships, I’ve been meaning to bring it up,” Ezra said, brightening, “but I just heard from Porter in the bursar’s office that Varona turned down that NYUMA fellowship. I know you weren’t excited about the VC job, so if you’re still interested in that position, I’m sure I could put in a good word.”
Surely he must have known this was the exact wrong thing to say. Shouldn’t he? She wouldn’t want Nico’s cast-offs, and certainly not now.
Though it did leave her with one other thing to explain.
“Well, the thing about Varona is—” Libby coughed. “Well, Varona is… also invited.”
Ezra faltered. “Oh?”
“Oh, come on. You can’t be surprised.” She fidgeted with her utensils, pushing the pasta around on her plate. “You saw us this morning, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I thought—”
“Look, it’s the same as it always is,” she said listlessly. “For whatever reason, Nico and I can do the same things, and—”
“So then why do they need both of you?” Ezra prompted. Again, the wrong thing to say. “You hate working with him. Not to mention everyone knows you’re better—”
“Actually, Ezra, they don’t. Clearly they don’t,” Libby added with a scoff, “since he got the fellowship I wanted. See how that works?”
“But—”
“I can’t let him win this time, babe. Seriously, I can’t.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin, setting it back on the table with frustration. “I’ve got to set myself apart from him. Don’t you get that?”
“Can’t you do that by, I don’t know,” Ezra posed with tacit disapproval, “doing something different?”
He made that sound so simple.
“Look,” Libby said, “chances are, only one of us is going to make the cut when the… fellowship,” she remembered, narrowly avoiding giving more details away, “determines the final members for its—” A pause. “Faculty.” Another pause, and then, “We have the same specialty, which means we’ll draw the most obvious comparison. So either he’ll be picked and I won’t, in which case I’ll be back in a year or less, or I’ll be picked and he won’t, in which case—”
“In which case you win,” Ezra exhaled with a hand around his mouth, “and we can finally stop worrying about whatever Varona is doing?”
“Yes.” That much, at least, was fairly obvious. “Not that you have to worry about Varona now.”
Ezra stiffened. “Lib, I wasn’t—”
“You were, actually,” Libby said, picking up her glass. “And I keep telling you, there’s nothing there. He’s just an asshole.”
“Believe me, I’m aware—”
“We’ll talk every night,” she assured him. “I’ll come home every weekend.” She could do that, probably. Maybe. “You’ll barely notice I’m gone.”
Ezra sighed. “Libby—”
“You just have to let me prove myself,” she told him. “You keep saying that Varona’s not better than me—”
“—because he isn’t—”
“—but it doesn’t matter what you think, Ezra, not really.” His mouth tightened, probably resentful that she was so dismissive of his admittedly very thoughtful attempts to reassure her, but on this, she couldn’t make allowances. “You hate him too much to see how good he really is, babe. I just want the opportunity to learn more, to prove myself. And proving myself by going up against the best in the world means going up against Nico de Varona, whether you believe that or not.”
“So I don’t get a say, then.” Ezra’s expression was slightly grim, but mostly unreadable.
“Of course you get a say,” Libby corrected him. “You can say, ‘Libby, I love you and I support you,’ or you can say something else.” She swallowed before adding, “But believe me, Ezra, there are only two answers here. If you don’t say one, you’re saying the other.”
She braced herself, waiting. She didn’t expect him to make any unreasonable demands, exactly, but she definitely knew he wasn’t going to be thrilled. Closeness was important to Ezra; it had been his idea to move in together, and he expected a certain amount of what a therapist might call ‘quality time.’ He certainly wasn’t going to savor the fact that Nico would be there in his absence.
To Libby’s immense relief, though, Ezra merely sighed, reaching across the table for her hand.
“You dream big, hotshot,” he said.