." I don't care what people think," she interrupted."I do," he smiled."What?" You, my dearest girlfriend, are a lady..." I'm a slut..." No you're not!...You may not understand this, but deep inside of you is a lady in the purest sense of the word. You have honor, which is worth protecting and I will protect it, even if you won't!" he exclaimed."I'm a lady?" she murmured."Yes, now go to your bedroom so we can protect your reputation." OK ... am I really your lady?" she asked, as she climbed off. Damn, he thought, and we don’t have Philosophy again until Friday. He picked it up and flipped it open, figuring that it must have been notes. Except it wasn’t a notebook at all. It was a sketchpad. She’s an artist? he wondered, as he flipped through it. No…not quite… They were clothes. Every sketch was a design. He would never have taken her for a fashion designer. Any girl who wore combat boots, Army issue pants with the knees torn out, and a Pantera t-shirt with a long-sleeved thermal shirt. More

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