“What do you think?”
Elliot scooted his chair closer to Eugene—to see the drawing better, obviously, no other reason—and studied the picture like it was a Magic Eye. The very small logical part of Elliot’s brain briefly interrupted to point out that nowhere on the card had Eugene indicated that this was breakup-related, and that a dead fish with a sparkly party hat might not obviously spell it out, especially because breakup cards were not a thing.
But whatEVER, the logical part of Elliot’s brain wasn’t driving the DeLorean today. (Nor did it ever get to drive the DeLorean, except when Elliot played a puzzle game, because Elliot was hardcore and didn’t use guides.) “Looks sick,” Elliot said, nodding his approval to indicate that sick was a good thing in this case. Eugene was such a good artist that even when he was drawing a decaying fish in a drainage lake, Elliot wanted to put his face on his face.
And why shouldn’t he? Elliot had not had a very radical fourth year, make-out-wise. But there was still time. And if Norah and Eugene were broken up…
Oh. Not broken up yet. But their love life was D.O.A. and that counted for something, right? Just look at how dead that fish was! It was so dead. It was the deadest fish to ever be dead on a greeting card. Eugene was dumping Norah immediately anyway so like, in terms of overlap, it didn’t even count.
“Yeah, totally, man,” Elliot agreed. “You gotta find someone who gives you stomach flutters.” Elliot had stomach flutters galore. He leaned closer to Eugene. Like very close. Like close enough that he could probably fog Eugene’s glasses again if he put a little effort in. “Does… anyone… do that for you?”