He lit his cigarette, I lit nothing. He drank alcohol, I drank water. He smirked, I smiled. He didn't love me, I didn't love him. He and I together wouldn't last a day. And then the game started... He said he found me intriguing, unique, and interesting because I didn't swoon over him. "You and me Grey, let's play a game. We'll date and in three months time I promise you will fall for me. When you fall in love with me between that time span, I win. If in any way you were to win I'll give up all the alcohol, cigarettes, and player ways." It was a game I wasn't willing to lose, but all games had accidents and consequences. It takes a broken heart to know how to break a heart.

No todas las historias comienzan en una cálida tarde de verano o en una fría mañana de invierno. Algunas, son entre estaciones. O jamás son contadas, por el simple hecho de transcurrir cuando todos duermen. Y es que las mejores conversaciones siempre ocurren en la madrugada. O sino, que se lo pregunten a Travis y Salem.

Noële escribía a Will. Will escribía a Noële. Pero ninguno de los dos enviaba sus cartas.