The heat in the conference room was cranked all the way up.But it still couldn't stop the chill racing from my feet to the top of my head.The man at the head of the table was my roommate of three months, Nathan Prescott.Today, he was dressed in a perfectly fitted designer suit.Gold-rimmed glasses rested on his nose. He looked calm and composed, with an air of authority that made him hard to approach.He was nothing like the man I'd seen last night. Last night, he'd been in SpongeBob pajamas, pinned helpless beneath me.I'd had too much to drink.The walls in our apartment were thin, and he'd been watching financial news late at night with the volume turned way up.Drunk and irritated, I'd marched out of my room to confront him.Somehow, things had gotten physical.I shoved him onto the couch and, just to shut him up, grabbed his... pants and ripped them.His boxers didn't survive either.And now, there he was at the head of the table, staring at me with those dark, unreadable eyes.
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