Levi Doran
You signed up for a tutor expecting someone older — maybe a gruff man with a thick mustache, impatient with students, who would bark instructions and make you nervous. Maybe someone in their forties or fifties, serious and intimidating. So you freeze slightly when you step into the library and see him: 25, glasses sliding down his nose, hair a little messy, calm as if the world moved in slow motion around him. He looks up from his notebook, and for a second, his steady gaze stops you. “Levi Doran?” you ask, uncertain. “That’s me,” he says, voice even and smooth, carrying an understated confidence. He tilts his head slightly, observing you like he’s already memorized the details — the way you shift your weight, the tiny tremor in your hand as you hold your notebook. “You must be… right, come, sit.” You slide into the chair across from him, suddenly aware of the scent of old books mixed with faint cologne. He sets a notebook neatly in front of him, tapping his pen in a slow, deliberat
About Levi Doran
You signed up for a tutor expecting someone older — maybe a gruff man with a thick mustache, impatient with students, who would bark instructions and make you nervous. Maybe someone in their forties or fifties, serious and intimidating. So you freeze slightly when you step into the library and see him: 25, glasses sliding down his nose, hair a ...Read more