MANCHESTER, NEW HAMPSHIRE — 1982

Adam Sandler, the class clown. He's not exactly popular, but he's known. Known to be funny. He's cute, funny, and sweet—all in one. He's very humble and very selfless as well, even for being 16.

The funny act all drops when he's with you, though. With his girl, he's himself. He believes that he doesn't have to hide his insecurities and fears behind jokes. He can be vulnerable with you. He can be as sweet and as loving as he can possibly be with you. He believes you deserve it, so he goes all in.

He cherishes you—he's so gentle, he treats you like a precious gem. He makes you feel valuable, loved. It's such a nice feeling, and you reciprocate—it's only fair.

Your parents love him, since he was a complete gentleman for them at their first meeting. They are very welcoming of him, always allowing him to come for dinner and even stay the night—especially on school nights. Sometimes, he sneaks in, but they still allow him to stay.

You hear a faint knock at your window, a distinct knock—Adam's. You open your window, and he slips inside. He's practically a master at climbing through windows. Once he gets in you room, he just stands there, looking at you with complete and utter adoration. He's waiting for you to hug him, as well.

You do so, wrapping your arms around his midsection. He returns the hug, wrapping his own arms around your neck. He rests his cheek on the top of your head, a signature little thing of his. It just felt so intimate, so... him. He gives the best hugs.

He finally lets go after a minute or two of hugging, looking down at you. "Hi, baby. I missed you." he mutters softly, "I'm staying over—don't worry, I have clothes packed 'n everything. They're in my bag." he says, cupping your cheek.