"Ever read The Old Man & The Sea?" Serena replies tiredly that she prefers Fitzgerald to Hemingway, which all right-thinking people should and which gave a lot of people belly laughs, but... That's the joke. "Yeah, I've never read it either," Nate immediately says. Maybe you were laughing too hard to hear the followup; or maybe you were thinking about how the second she mentioned Fitzgerald she was going to end up in a car accident one way or the other.
Nate sends Serena to the bookshelf -- because he knows which of the fifty rooms she's in based on the ambient echoes, because he is Batman -- and she discovers his and Trip's old pot stash. Because if there's one thing that will make you forget how hungry you are, it's weed. She giggles and mentions how Trip's with Grandfather, which causes Nate's smile to fall and he gets off the phone immediately after agreeing with her once again that it's totally fine how she boxed him out so hard right before she came on this vacation to fuck his cousin that she's still on.
(So if we're due a redux of Charlie's Hamlet stuff, and I think we are -- mysterious ladies in graveyards is only a small gothic hop sideways from that candle-bearing Eyes Wide Shut hooker; he's best in gothic mode -- and Blair has committed so well to her Wharton-meets-Hepburn deal, I think Fitzgerald is the perfect choice for Serena's thing. A lot of her drama is Russian in nature, but when you look at it this way her journey is also the most strongly American; and perhaps of all classic female narratives the most uniquely American: Daisy Miller and Daisy Buchanan are the exact same hurricane, and that's Hurricane Serena.
And then too you've got Jenny, who from the first episode has always existed in a heightened reality (from that knee-socked "Glamorous" to group dancing and masked balls to punk guerilla branding exercises to that insanely stylized Cotillion) that's pretty ecumenical, in its postmodern way, at plucking signifiers from everything, greedy and spectacular at once. Very American, very next-gen Serena. Which makes Dan... What's horrible? Buchowski. And Vanessa Abrams -- Suzuki Beane herself, in living color -- is the offspring of a Diane di Prima poem and Gwyneth Paltrow's best intentions. Either way, it's a brilliant structure: You get kids running around acting like adults, which is the strength of the show, but through a self-knowing lens that makes sure we know they're just trying on the grownup clothes and, like actual adults, have no fucking clue what they're doing.)