Tethered Hearts | ✓ | Books 1 & 2

Episode 62| Lost in Translation

Sophia's P.O.V.

"They're not the same," Bryce argued, brushing his knuckles on my bare shoulder blade. I readjusted myself, pulling my hair into a bun and setting back down, resting my head on his tattooed chest. "Seinfeld and Martin are two sitcoms that aren't really supposed to be in the same group. They're both good, but for different reasons."

For the last twenty minutes, we talked aimlessly while in bed, not really focusing on one topic for too long.

I carefully examined his tattoos, asking him why he had a tattoo of the numbers one and thirty next to each other. In a sepulchral tone, he told me that was that January 30th was the due date for his unborn child with Julia and that he got it on what would've been his kid's second birthday.

I hastily changed the conversation by discussing TV shows. That was always a good idea. I brought up how I couldn't watch a second of Seinfeld and how I preferred watching Martin.

"They're both comical sitcoms that center their plot around a group of friends." I stated. "That's why I compared them."

"I think you're second guessing Seinfeld's humor. It's hilarious."

I groaned. "It's far from hilarious. I feel like you're only fighting tooth and nail for them because it's set in New York."

"It's genuinely a good show."

"You can say that a million more times, but I'm not going to watch it, Bryce. I switched between falling asleep and rolling my eyes when I last saw a rerun of it on TV."

He reeled back far enough to glance directly at me, scooting towards the left. "I'm calling the wedding off. This is unacceptable."

I rolled my eyes. "Because I don't like Seinfeld?"

"It's the principle, Sophia."

"I forgave you when you said you don't like the singer Selena." I prodded his arm, sitting up. "And that hurt because I actually really love her music. I went to go see her live two summers ago. When she goes on tour again, I think I'd want to see her again. It was great."

"I'm sure I'd like her music too if I spoke the language."

I poked him again. "Oh, shut up. You have a mix tape full of French songs, and I know you can't speak French."

"Maybe I do." He squinted, but the hard expression didn't last long. He was smirking by the time he continued what he was saying. "Maybe it's my hidden talent."

"I call bullshit." I said with a guffaw. "Spanish isn't that difficult to learn."

"You say that because you've been speaking it your entire life."

"It's not that hard." I told him with certainty. "I'll prove it. Tell me a word you want to learn the translation of and I'll tell you what it is. Then you can repeat that word."

The corner of his mouth twisted upward and his eyes gave a suggestive gleam. "How do say daddy?"

I chuckled, not able to take him serious. "I didn't know you liked being called that."

"I don't. I was just kidding." Something about how he said that made me think he wasn't entirely joking. I didn't go as far as to ask. "Besides, I already know it's papi chulo."

"Nooo." I fell over, laughing hard. "Papi chulo is like a Mac Daddy, a player. In translation, it means pretty or cool daddy. It's not the same thing as daddy though. Ohmigod." I covered my face while another wave of laughter came over me. "Papi means daddy."