It was late, around 8, when I picked you up from the other side of town.
We had a surprise, last minute guest, or at least it was a surprise to me. Still I did not care. You were still with me, and that was all that mattered.
You had been in a perfume exhibition. The plethora of aromas impregnating my car.

We drove back to my place; I opened the door for you.
You never fully liked my chivalry, but I refused to stop being so.

We both went to my room. Your sister sat down on the computer. We closed the door behind us, and we were all alone.
You asked me if I had an old shirt you could borrow. You were kind of sick from all the perfume already.
I gave you a white shirt, and turned my back to you as you took your shirt off, exposing your dellicate, soft skin, and changed into my simple, old, white shirt.
You said "Why do you turn your back? I'm not fully naked, and I don't mind you seeing me like this.".
I was too much of a gentleman to watch her before she was dressed again.

Once in my old shirt, we laid on my bed, under the covers, and just held each other tight.
I stared into your eyes, and you stared into mine. I knew what you had been saying was nothing but I lie.
"I'm sorry, but I don't like you that way.". Yet there you were, with me in my bed.

Without a word I got closer and closer. You knew my intentions, and you went with the flow.
My lips met yours. Your lips met mine. For the first time I had kissed you, and I didn't want it to end.
That kiss was so tender, so soft, so caring. Right then I knew I wasn't mistaken for falling for you.
We kissed many more times that night. Each kiss better than the last one. You even said you had never been kissed like that before. So pasionate yet so soft. So loving and so caring.

A knock on my bedroom door, and your sister reminding you it was time for you to leave.
We got out of bed, and put our shoes on. You changed back into your shirt, and gave me back my old, white shirt.
We kissed goodbye, before letting your sister see us, and I took you back home. We smiled at each other, said goodnight, and we both went home.

When I entered my room, a scent still lingered on; on my sheets, on my clothes, on my memory, on my soul, and on that one old, white shirt.
The scent lingered on for days, weeks even, before, slowly, fading away into the air, and still that shirt held it, not physically, but, in my heart, it still smells of lavender, like that day you wore it, like the day after.

To this day I keep that shirt. It may have lost its scent, we may have fallen apart, but it still reminds me of that lavender smell that takes me back to the most passionate love I ever felt.