Separation Anxiety | A Short Story

Hey, you!

I heard it’s National Short Story Month. Well, this is right on time, then.

Here’s an update on Parisa x Zen

*Please note that this content may contain spoilers if you haven’t already indulged in Between Friends.

In the meantime, happy reading! 💋

With love, ShanicexLola

(Copyrighted material)

Before you proceed, please note that some parts of this short story are arousing, adventurous, and downright raunchy. I encourage you to read with an open mind to thoroughly enjoy the passion within.

I recently created these characters on Sims and had a blast. Check out Between Friends’ Pinterest Board for more inspired inspo: —> https://bit.ly/3vPepYH ♡

I looked around the room at my disorganized software development team; they had me fuming and wanting to throw hands. Considering my resting bitch face was at a level ten today, it was probably obvious that I wasn’t feeling any of them—not one person out of eight engineers.

“You guys, I’m all for work-life balance and prioritizing rest, but I’m struggling to wrap my head around why no one completed their overdue projects and pitches this weekend?”

Four of the eight looked exhausted and hungover. Since they were all friends, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d partied together over the weekend.

“I turned my data model script in before our meeting,” Daniel said, tapping his pale index finger on the boat-shaped conference table. His fidgetiness was either from his caffeine addiction or a weakly finished project. Either way, I wasn’t in the mood for mediocrity.

“I’ll review it before the end of the day.” I nodded. “Did anyone else send anything to my email before our meeting?”

As the others shook their heads, Kani exclaimed,” None of my pitch ideas are landing.” She slammed her pen on the table, sounding just as frustrated as she looked. Her perfectly arched brows were drawn together, her eyes slightly narrowed while her pouty lips pushed out farther than usual, a look I’d come to recognize whenever she was hard on herself.

Kani was usually a melanin burst of sunshine, easily the most positive person on our team since I started at Black Line over two years ago.

“Can I ask why?”

Despite my irritation, I preferred my team to extend each other grace, even when we felt aggravated or inconvenienced. Regardless of my position, it only mattered that we were a team; every member and their efforts were vital.

“Well…” She sat up in her seat. “It’s just… I ran my ideas by someone who suggested I go a different route with—“

I lifted my hand, stopping her there.

“Is this coming from someone who has mastered the skill of engineering pitch decks?” I inquired.

She shook her head.

“Figures.” I shrugged, glancing at everyone in the room before focusing on her again.

“Stop sharing your excitement and plans with people who don’t understand or see your vision, especially in the beginning stages of a project. Even if they mean well, most will let you down every time. In turn, you let yourself down. Your ideas are great, Kani. Do what feels right to you. You know what you’re doing. And ultimately, it isn’t up to anyone you share your ideas with. This is your career. Your livelihood. Take more control of it,” I said, then returned a warm smile as she nodded vehemently.

“Now, does anyone else need me to tap into my motivational speaker bag, or can I depend on you all to get your projects to me by EOD tomorrow?”

I peered around the room as they laughed and commenced side conversations like shit was sweet.

“After tomorrow, I won’t be able to keep Savannah off your backs,” I added, referring to my supervisor.

They knew the deal; I may have been over them, but someone else was over me. The chain of commands seemed endless.

After they nodded their understanding, I dismissed the meeting with my usual, ‘Thanks for being here’ spiel.

I was the first person out of the conference room and down the hall to my office within seconds, keeping my head down and my attention on my notepad, looking busy so no one would talk to me.

Being an introvert with a demanding, technical career drained me more times than it excited me.

Inside my office, I exhaled, kicked my heels off, and stalked toward my desk. As soon as I plopped down, my phone vibrated. I pulled it out of the side pocket of my dark floral dress, smiling at Zen’s name and the picture of us on the screen with clay face masks and robes on.

“Good afternoon, handsome. How are you feeling? How’s everything at the shop going today?” I chirped, noticing my voice always softened to infinity and beyond when speaking to him.

He transformed me into the sweetest, softest woman when he was around.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he confessed.

“Did something happen at work? What’s wrong?” I asked, rising from my seat and moving toward the floor-to-ceiling window.

The sight of the towering buildings and the vast expanse of the sun-kissed, dark-blue lake always calmed me.

“Parisa, stop playing with me.”

“Babe, can we get along today, please? I miss you, and it’s already been a long morn—”

“I need to see you,” he insisted.

“We’ll be together in a week, Z,” I said, as if a week was light work for me.

Little did he know, I had a countdown app on my phone, displaying the hours and seconds until I was in his arms again.

It was just as difficult for me to endure being apart as it was for him. But Zen acted like he was hurting more. It wasn’t a competition, but he made it one every time we were thousands of miles away. 

“I can’t go for that. We’ve been together for three months now, yet separated and balancing busy schedules most of the time,” he pressed.

I sighed.

I loved that he missed and craved me, but I hated it when he talked like distance defined us. It never had and wouldn’t start now.

“We see each other every other weekend,” I countered.

“I need to see you, Risa,” he repeated. “Phone and video calls aren’t cutting it anymore. I need you.”

A wave of warmth coursed through me as I listened to him. It was giving Cry for You by Jodeci, and I didn’t mind it.

“Take this man seriously, Parisa,” I thought as a rap at my office door startled me.

“Give me one moment, okay, babe? Someone’s at the door.” I put the phone down and shouted, “Yes,” staring at the door as the knob turned and it slowly opened.

“You’re the type I have to show better than I tell,” Zen said, entering my office with the phone to his ear, balancing an In-N-Out Burger bag, a bouquet of yellow daffodils and sunflowers, and a cup holder of milkshakes and waters. 

I slapped my hand over my mouth as he closed the door with his foot. “Zen, what are you doing here?”

I charged into his arms after he set everything on my desk.

“I just told you I needed to see you,” he said, cupping my face and staring at me in wonder, like I was the best thing he’d ever seen in a while. Except that was how he always looked at me.

I moaned and leaned into him, wrapping my arms around him and relishing the warm, enticing woodsy cologne that enclosed us.

“I’m happy you’re here,” I said.

“I’m already knowin’,” he replied, breaking our kiss. “You can cut that tough girl shit out now, or maybe you don’t fuck with me the way you say—”

I covered his mouth with my hand, taking in how good he looked in a snug-fitting, long-sleeved shirt and joggers.

“I’m considerate of your time and career. I understand that I can’t pull you from your business and responsibilities every time I miss you.”

“Why can’t you?” he asked, eyebrows hiked and eyes low.

“Your shop is always booked with repairs and—”

Zen kissed my breath away, securing his hands around my waist. I threw my arms around his neck, tilting my head to the side and deepening our kiss.

He paused our passion and said, “You don’t have to worry about my business, Parisa; you know that. I handle mine regardless.” He gazed into my eyes. “You’re a priority. Always have been. Accept it so you can stop acting timid and confused. And so you can stop holding back on me now that we’re together, aight?”

His deep voice was stern now. Zen played zero games when it came to making me feel secure in my place in his life.

“Okay,” I whispered, lying on his chest as his fingers rubbed through my curls, massaging my scalp. He preferred it when my hair was out of braids, allowing him to play in my natural tresses. “Thank you for coming,” I teased.

He lifted me onto the edge of my desk before sliding my dress higher.

“Enjoy your strawberry shake while I taste you,” he said.

“Excuse me?” I shook my head, wagging my finger at him. “Zen, we can’t,” I whispered, only to gasp when he dropped to his knees. “My door isn’t locked.” My eyes darted straight to the doorknob, panic settling in my chest.

At least the blinds were closed, though that barely mattered with a few of my rude-ass team members who were never taught to knock before barging in.

Once he blew on my clit and laughed under his breath, my hand found his head, and I leaned back against the desk. His tongue circled my sensitive love button. Loud moans escaped me, and he quickly covered my mouth with his hand.

No matter how hard I bit down against his palm to quiet myself, his focus never shifted. He stayed devoted to pleasing me, consumed with drawing every reaction from my body.

The attention he gave me—the way he treated my pleasure like something worth studying—turned me on even more every time. It kept him captivated, amazed by how easily my body responded to him.

“You know what I’m after,” he murmured.

I hummed against his hand, already teetering on the edge of giving him exactly what he wanted and what I could no longer hold back.

“I love you,” I breathed, my words muffled, head tipping back, and my thighs trembling beneath his touch.

His satisfied sounds pulled a helpless laugh from me while I weakly nudged at his head for mercy. The slow, unrelenting attention he supplied made surrender feel inevitable.

My body had decided he could have whatever he asked for.

“So,” I breathed between shaky laughs, smiling at the sheen coating his beard, “when do you want me to move in?”

Hooked.

“Can we stop fucking for a minute and talk?” I asked, pinning her hands above her head. I had no other choice but to get on top of her after she tried to grab me again. This woman was trying to drain me, and we needed to discuss a few things before I let her.

“Oh, this isn’t what you came here for?” She wrapped her thighs around me, keeping me close.

She didn’t have to trap me that way, though. I wasn’t going anywhere.

If we could be skin-to-skin every day, I would opt for it.

Her smile faded as she took in my knitted eyebrows and straight face. “Okay, okay.” She slipped her arms around my neck. “Let’s discuss your separation anxiety.”

“You don’t take me seriously, huh?”

“I do. Tell me what’s bothering you.” She caressed the side of my face, occasionally tugging on my beard. “Is it only the distance, or is there something more on your mind? Be honest with me.”

“Malika needs you. The deeper she gets into her pregnancy, the more emotional she is.”

Parisa pursed her lips, holding back from laughing in my face.

“She has Quincy, Mom, Dad, and you to call whenever she needs anything. You all have spoiled her more than ever since she announced. She’s fine.”

“You’re her best friend. It’s different,” I rebutted.

“And I’m also your best friend,” she said. “Tell me what’s up with you.”

I needed her—wanted her with me at all times. In my muthafuckin’ skin. On my lap. On my face. Physically present in my life, with full access and no overwhelming mileage between us.

“Zen, listen…” she started, her sweet tone turning serious as she held my gaze. “I feel the same way you do. The difference is, I pour most of those feelings out to Mailka and my therapist every week, so it probably doesn’t seem as heavy on me because I’m not bringing all of it to you. I try not to make you feel bad about the distance.”

She rubbed her thumbs along my cheeks before continuing. “But I know physical touch is your love language, baby, and this has been hard on both of us. So instead of sitting in it, let’s come up with a better plan.”

“Suggestions?” I asked, brushing a kiss against her plump lips before trailing another to her chin.

“Mhm.” She nodded, a wide smile stretching across her face, bright enough to pull the same grin from me. “Not just a suggestion either. I already came up with a plan and started putting it into motion.”

My dick hardened again; I knew she felt it between her legs when she giggled softly.

“Tell me more,” I said, unable to look away from her as she pushed me back and climbed into my lap.

She glanced down at me, her cool hands resting against my chest, her sultry brown eyes holding me captive. Warmth surrounded me with her thighs bracketing my hips, close enough to cloud every thought in my head.

“My lease was up a month ago, so I switched to month-to-month,” she explained. “Yesterday, I told my boss I’d be going remote in about two weeks.” A proud little smile curved her lips. “She trusts me enough that she didn’t fight me on it.”

Her fingers traced over my chest before she added, “Now all I have left to do is pack.”

My eyes widened, and I studied her with a skeptical tilt of my head. “Is that… is that what you want? I mean, no doubt I want that, but—”

“It’s what I want,” she affirmed.

The certainty in her voice anchored something in me. I needed that. I never wanted her to feel pushed into anything she wasn’t ready for. Parisa was always in control; I moved within the space she allowed, and I did it gladly, feeling lucky to be part of her world.

“Perfect timing,” I murmured. It was October, and she’d be with me before the holiday season.

My parents always swore by it, reminding my siblings and me that prayer had a way of answering back. Now all that was left was convincing an independent woman to choose me over getting her own apartment in Daytona. I might’ve needed to check in with God a few more times to see if it was written for us.

“I agree,” she cooed, bouncing lightly in my lap. Sometimes I thought she enjoyed teasing me, but I didn’t have to wonder for long. She did. And the worst part was, I liked letting her get away with it.

It’d proven itself worth it every time I pushed deeply inside the pussy that drooled for me.

Just for me.

“Any other requests? Can you wait a few more weeks for me to move back home? I’ll be traveling back with my dad. He was the first to know and insisted on helping me pack up, arrange a rental, and all that fun stuff. It gives us time to hang out and take a long road trip like the old days.”

“I respect it.” I nodded. “You already know I’d wait forever for you. But I do have a request.” I gently cupped her neck, my thumb brushing along the soft curve of her jaw as I studied her face. “What do you think about moving in with me?”

I held her gaze as she tapped her chin, eyes drifting up to the slow spin of the ceiling fan, weighing it all in her silence.

I needed a real answer outside of her telling me what I wanted to hear while she came on my face or dick.

“I think it’s necessary,” she said, holding onto my arm and keeping my hand where it rested at her neck. “Not just because we’re in love or want to be in each other’s skin, but because I’m pregnant. According to the six tests in my guest bathroom.”

My grip loosened instantly.

I tried to speak, but nothing came.

Tears gathered in both of our eyes as disbelief pulled at our faces, turning into shaky smiles neither of us could hold back. She shook her head once, like she still couldn’t believe it either, then leaned into me.

Her forehead found my chest, and she exhaled into the space between us, breaking the quiet with something honest and unguarded. “How cool would it be if Malika and I had the same obstetrician?” she whispered.

I swallowed hard, emotions still stuck in my chest. “I love you so much, Parisa.”

“I love you too, baby,” she replied softly.

No more separation anxiety.

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With love, ShanicexLola