Total Control

The room felt incredibly muggy when she woke up, even though she could hear rain on the roof. She was sleeping on her stomach, and light was just filtering through the blinds.
She groaned and buried her head deeper into the pillow. Why could she never sleep in after a late night?
Eventually the memories came back to her in small pieces.
The night before she embraced him and remembered thinking "I'm sure I'll regret this in the morning," without the slightest feeling of remorse.
And of course, her intoxicated self had been correct, and the giddy happiness from the night before was now replaced with a feeling of guilt and utter nausea (Although the vodka could quite possibly be blamed for that.)
She rolled over and covered her face with her hands.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
Chances are she was overreacting.
Really, she'd done nothing wrong.
But she was not your typical young woman. She was not one to drink and forget, she had particularly high morals within her social circle.
Although that probably didn't say much, as the people that she surrounded herself with lacked any presence of morality.
What was more, was she moved slowly.
Of the real relationships that she'd experienced, they all took a very long time before they amounted to anything, partially because of her fear of rejection, partially because of her fear of decisions.
They all had a very slow and painful end to accompany their slow and painful start.
To be perfectly honest, she wasn't entirely sure what had occurred the previous night, or how what she remembered had come to happen.
She remembered a few sentences.

It had been an incredibly cold night for the end of Autumn, and the only thing that stopped her from going inside without him was the warming (or, perhaps, numbing) effect of the alcohol.

She recalled the conversation by the beach.

The one in which he told her that when she'd first attended one of his parties, she was the only one he wanted to see. That she was beautiful. That after she'd worn his jacket it smelled like her for days.
The sort of raw honesty that only copious amounts of alcohol allows.

She had been incredibly flattered of course, and in the past she had often wondered if anything would happen between them. But it was as if she was seeing him in a new light. Strange, that moments of loss of complete control allowed her to see something that she couldn't when fully conscious.

Now she was terrified of all the new-found feelings she seemed to have. For a successful, hard-working woman, relationships were not her strong point.
Rather shy and withdrawn, she was utterly useless at expressing her feelings towards people, and now she stressed at the though of having to reciprocate to his in some way.

She didn't even know if she believed in drunk sincerity. Perhaps it was an oxymoron. Perhaps he would feel differently today. Better yet, perhaps he'd remember nothing.

Her thoughts were interrupted as her Blackberry vibrated on the bedside table incredibly loudly, and her heart leapt as she saw his name on the screen.