It is a cold September afternoon and not the weather to be wearing shorts and little else. But Leo is different. We don’t know his real name, but we shall call him that, because he looks like he should be called Leo. 

Leo is in a small supermarket, and he looks about fifteen or sixteen. He has a shaved head, mischievous eyes, and boyish stubble. He will never be considered good-looking until he abandons that pursuit of chaviness.

‘I am Leo, and I will shock you.’  

The only signs of manhood are his scrubby hairy legs. His slender torso is pale, smooth, and scrawny. Despite the cold, there are beads of sweat across his chest, and if you stand close enough, you’ll recognise that faint smell of a teenage boy. 

Leo is quick, and if you were to fight him, he would be incredibly slippy.

He has no money, and as he brushes past old women, he thinks about stealing a packet of crisps, or a chocolate bar,  but there is nowhere to hide them.

When Leo reaches the newsstand, something catches his eye. He stands and stares, and somebody looks straight back at him. 

Leo studies the fox-like face on the front cover of Vogue magazine. He looks at the gentle lips, that noble nose, and green sex eyes, then notices that the eyebrows have been carefully plucked. Most of all, he likes the thick black curly hair. Leo thinks that he has never seen a man look so handsome.

Leo stares too long and realises that he’s put his hand down the front of his shorts like gangsta boys do.

“You battyboy, bro?” says a gangsta boy voice behind him. Carter, dressed in school uniform, grins over Leo’s shoulder.

Leo clenches his fists and swings around.

“I ain’t no battyboy, bro,” challenges Leo. And in his deepest gangsta  boy voice, tells Carter. “I swear I will bang you if you ever say that again!”

One day Harry will grow up. But it might be too late then. He mixes with the wrong people, and when there is trouble, you know he will be involved. He carries a blade for protection because there are many who will hurt him. There is a rumour that he once shot somebody, and that could be true. And you live with the realisation that one day he will come unstuck and will end up in prison or worse.

Harry can lose his temper, and when he is angry, he will strike first, and for that reason we should be afraid.

But those of us who are well acquainted are not scared. If Harry likes you, he will invite himself into your bed and you will not resist.

In the darkest hours, when he is safe in someone’s arms, he becomes the sweetest little boy again, and will love you until morning claims him back.

It happened to me once, and I saw the scars across his chest and stomach from when drug deals had gone wrong. And Harry whispered in my ear that I was one of his boys, and he would protect me.

Harry has been good as his word. He gives me dodgy money, stolen gifts, and friendship, and once beat up my ex-boyfriend because he found out he’d been sleeping with somebody else.

But Harry has never returned, and I live in the hope that he will be back, but I worry that his time will soon run out, and he will be lost forever.

It’s two days since bad boy Jamie disappeared. His messages stopped, and he didn’t come around as promised. I was angry, unfriended him on social media, and deleted every trace.

I cannot trust a person who hurt me because I know he will do it again.

Last night, Jamie turned up in a busy bar, and I ignored him. But he kept appearing in the crowd and glancing across.

He messaged me. ‘Sorry I was in a police cell.’

I ignored it, and this meant he had to come over and speak. He asked me if I was turning my back on him. I said yes.

And he got drunker, more desperate, and more apologetic, and this is when he is dangerous, and might end up in a police cell again.

And now, the emotional drama.

‘I understand that you’re angry with me. All I can do is apologise.’

Here we are, face to face. You can’t look me in the eye. “There’s something I want to say,” I tell you. “What is it?” you mumble. “What if I told you I like you,” I say. You don’t answer, but shuffle on both feet. The floor seems more interesting. That silence says everything, but also nothing at all. Are you shocked? Are you pleased? Just say something, and finally you do. “I like you, but…” But nothing. And I walk away.

People disappoint me. I have been rejected by bad boy Jamie, and that makes me sad and hurt. He was supposed to come around and gave every indication that he was going to. But his messages dried up yesterday, and today there is silence. I had high expectations, and this always seems to be the killer.

I am wired to form trusting relationships and have people to love. Am I mistaking love for lust? Do I need empathy, companionship, commitment, or consideration? Is Jamie someone I want in my life?

Tonight, I am the victim, and choose to be, and will agonise about things for hours to come. And then, I will be kind to myself, and realise that my energy is better spent elsewhere, and I will get my needs.