Plus, see the cover!
The thread may stretch or tangle but will never break."
Check out the cover designed and illustrated by Sandra Chiu (@whatsannymade) and an illuminating excerpt below.
Lauren K. Jessen.Forever
I carefully move my hands under our lantern.
We push the lantern down low enough so we can see each other over the top of it.
In the yellow glow, I see pink blossom across his cheeks.
Red String Theory by Lauren K. Jessen.Forever
“If we do this, we have to do it the right way,” Jack says.
“I can do some quick math.
Figure out the coordinates and proper angle to release this.
Preferably away from the police station.
Do you know where that is?”
He looks at me expectantly.
I wave one of my arms toward downtown, and the lantern is thrown off balance.
“Somewhere over there.”
Jack steadies the lantern and looks up at an angle.
“The wind is blowing west.
Let’s use that to our benefit.
Come slightly more toward me.”
I shuffle three baby steps in his direction.
“We can aim it toward the river and away from all the buildings and people.”
Jack looks up toward his forehead doing what I assume is mental math.
It’s endearing watching him become this involved.
“What else are we not considering?”
he asks, looking over at the other couples releasing their lanterns.
“Okay, there.
They’re releasing the lantern straight over their heads.
But it needs to stay low enough and at an angle.
Theirs will hardly make it a mile.”
What do we win?
Free lanterns for life?"
Jack shakes his head, but it’s not directed toward me.
I catch a faint scent of clove on him, chased by an earthy hint of oak.
Or is it cedar?
His scent alone warms me up.
“They’ve pushed the lantern out too forcefully over the edge of the building,” he continues.
“All that swaying is going to throw it off its trajectory.”
“There’s no need to overanalyze the magic of releasing lanterns.
Once it’s out of our hands, we can’t control it anymore.”
Jack furrows his brows.
“We’re not leaving ourpaperlantern fueled byfireup to…fate.
Or whatever it is that you’re referring to that is out of our control.”
“Our lantern will end up where it’s supposed to.
Don’t worry,” I reassure him.
“Okay, I won’t worry about fate,” Jack says with an undercurrent of sarcasm.
It’s subtle, but I notice it.
A snag in his typically calm reserve.
“How about instead, I’ll just worry about getting caught and spending the night in jail.”
“If you have that experience, maybe you won’t fear it as much.”
He adjusts his footing.
“That’s a lesson I’ll happily skip.”
Our lantern floats even higher, guiding our hands up with it.
With our arms above our heads, Jack and I lock eyes under the glow of the flame.
Through his dark lashes, I can see that eye-smile again.
“Might as well let go on three.
I’m breathless and, so it seems, is Jack.
“That was thrilling,” he says with a slightly confused look on his face.
“You look positively radiant,” I say, mimicking his serious look.
Laughter pours out of him, unrestrained.
It’s the first time I’ve heard it from him.
There’s an unexpected warmth in it, such childlike joy beneath his stony exterior.
The moon beams like a spotlight over the Hudson River.
A tingling sensation unravels in my chest.
Could he be…
Excerpted from RED STRING THEORY by Lauren Kung Jessen.
Copyright 2024 by Lauren Kung Jessen.
Reprinted with permission from Grand Central Publishing.
