Seth, meanwhile, begs to be swatted across the snout with a rolled-up newspaper as he follows Summer up the steps of the school like the sad little puppy dog he is. He catches up to her and asks if she's going to talk to him at all, and she responds by suggesting that she write him a letter that he read over and over "trying to figure out what the hell I was thinking all summer." This, er, happened to a friend of hers. Then it seems she calls him an ass. He tells her to wait a second, and she proudly tells him that she's done waiting, right before she lowers the boom that launched a thousand spoilers and at least one Entertainment Weekly sidebar: "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go meet my boyfriend." Heh. Awesome. And written, if I had to guess, by someone with a healthy appreciation of a classic piece of American cinema that ends with the line, "I'm gonna go home and sleep with my wife."

Hailey stands on Tate Donovan's boat wearing a bikini that looks like it's made from the vinyl floral coverings of vintage Boca Raton lanai furniture, talking on a cell phone. She expresses excitement that something is "happening," but notes as well that it's "too soon" and worries that she hasn't told Jimmy yet because she doesn't want to hurt him. Oh, don't worry. Tate Donovan can handle anything. You can knock him down and he'll keep coming back for more. He's like the resident Hollywood Wac-A-Mole. Hurt Tate Donovan, Hailey. Everyone else has. And here he comes, Jimmy sauntering onto the boat and handing her a glass of orange juice spiked with foreshadowed regret. She tells him that "Suzie says hi," and she responds that Suzie calls too early. Fuckin' Suzie. Hailey takes the drink and asks if he's trying to get her drunk, and he shoots back perhaps the least romantic line this side of Leaving Las Vegas when he purrs (I'm sorry, folks, but that's what he does. He purs), "I am trying to keep you drunk." They kiss smackily and talk about how "awesome" everything is, and Jimmy decides to share an idea he's been kicking around: "We should keep the boat for another month" and go down to Cabo. Hailey pulls away and practically recoils in horror -- what if there are no razors of the Mach 3 variety in Cabo? -- and tells him that they can't. He looks on the bright side that it's not like they have jobs to go back to, but if you're drinking at 9 AM and reveling in your continued lack of employment opportunities, I'd say you'll be sailing The U.S.S. Highball over to the Twelve Step Islands in no time. Tate Donovan's the wastrel captain of his craft, and Hailey his elusive white whale. As the first line of that book goes: call him rehab.