The expectations have never been higher. It's a really inconvenient time for Harry Styles to lose his famous charm. But Imani Cole, the director he insisted upon for the film, ties his tongue and enchants his feet. He's missing his cues and overstepping his marks, but he camt shake the feeling of falling he gets around her. It's not so much love at first sight, it's more an impression of inevitability. And it's bloody inconvenient.

You pulled your knees up to your chest underneath the blankets. "Are you ok?" One beat, two beats, three beats. You bit your lip, each second he didn't answer drilling a sense of dread into you. "My friends...." He gulped audibly and you crossed your free hand over your chest, squeezing close. "My friends are dicks, y'know?" Harry laughed, but it was hollow. "They really...." Silence fell again and you gnawed your tongue to keep from breaking it. He'd tell you - he always did - you just needed to give him time, and he was fainter still when he did. "There'll probably be a few pictures."

Jillian's left, run away to San Francisco to try to make her own summer of love. Harry's left in dreary Syracuse watching the snow melt like it's sand in an hourglass. Once the skies and sandsh are clear, he hops a greyhound to find the girl of his childhood and current dreams. When he gets there, she's moved from the streets of the Haight to Marin County and is calling herself a "child of summer." Harry can't help but want to be summer's child too, but does all the love and sun really come for free, or do season's change?