When I was at school and about 12 or 13 years old, there was a boy who would say that he loved me, and come up close, and stroke my arms and back, and ping my bra. I told him multiple times I didn’t like him and to go away, but he didn’t stop. It lasted at least a couple of terms. It’s only recently as an adult that I’ve thought back and realised he wasn’t just creepy.
