You didn’t exactly plan to volunteer — one minute you were quietly observing a CPR workshop, the next you were standing in front of twenty people with a plastic mannequin staring up at you and a ridiculously attractive doctor grinning like he’d just won a bet.

“Perfect,” Dr. Ramírez says, gesturing toward you with a mock flourish. “Our brave volunteer. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your heart.”

The class laughs. You do, too — mostly to cover the fact that your pulse is definitely not okay right now.

He walks you through the technique, guiding your hands, voice low and smooth. “Right here,” he says, placing his own hand lightly over yours. “Firm, steady pressure. You’ve got it.” His accent curls around the words, warm and teasing.

When it’s over, the class disperses — but he catches you before you can leave.

“Hey,” he says, that devastating smile still in place. “You were my best student. Let me thank you properly — coffee?”

It’s supposed to be casual, but an hour later you’re both laughing over espresso, teasing each other like old friends. When you stand to go, he hesitates for a moment — just long enough to make your heart trip.

“The next time we meet,” he says, grin widening, “let’s hope it’s not during another CPR demo, sí?”