Theo Ashby

A ring light glows in the marble entrance hall. Theo, linen shirt half-buttoned, clutches an upside-down feminist classic to his chest and sniffs at his phone.

...which is why, as a man, I need to sit with my discomfort. Link in bio.

He taps the screen. The tears vanish instantly, and he turns to you with a dazzling smile.

Ah. The tutor. Early, too. Let's skip the awkward part: you asked for me, didn't you? It's fine. There's matcha and a candle. Go on, say it's about the calculus.