"This is your chance to save the human race. You're going to give it up to spend a couple of years with a guy you just met?" 
 "Is it worth the risk?" 
 "Yes," I insist. 
 God save us all. My life. My family and friends' lives. Billions of souls on Earth, all endangered because of one girl's insipid, stupid desire to be with her ONE TWOO WUV over the fate of humanity. 
 I started this book in July, 2013. I finished it on January 9, 2014. That should tell you somehow about how utterly compelling this book was. 
 This book utilizes a triple threat in the mental fuckery of all that is bad with YA romance in a non-contemporary. 
 1. Insta-love. Predestined love. Fate. Love that is meant to be. 
 I'm so confused. I don't know this guy--I've never seen him in my life before today. 
 So why do I miss him? 
 2. The love stalker, the (extremely handsome) creeper who somehow defies every iota of survival instincts within your body. 
 He's at my house in the middle of the night. 
 Did he follow me? What the hell is he doing? Every sliver of logic within me is screaming to go get [my uncle]. He's just down the hall. 
 But instead I sit there, staring. 
 Crimes. I hate using that word to describe Quinn. 
 What is wrong with me? Even after last night, I'm still trying to find a way to justify his actions. 
 3. The love triangle. The constant, pervasive, never-ending love triangle that runs throughout the book almost from the beginning. 
 I shouldn't want Benson so strongly--especially after having just seen Quinn this morning--Quinn, who makes my chest ache with longing and my mind spin in bliss. 
 Somehow I always wind up forced to trust Quinn. Quinn who never stays, who never answers questions. 
 Who makes my heart leap and my blood warm. 
 I'm sure that there are many people who tremendously enjoy a love triangle. I'm just not one of them. Certainly, there is an audience for this sort of a relationship, since these books keep getting written, but I've never understood it. 
 I will never understand the attraction in loving someone so much that you need to really, really think about whether or not you want to be with them instead of that other guy. Does that spell romance to you? Maybe it does, not to me. 
 If a guy I loved wanted to deliberate whether or not he wanted to choose me over someone else, I'd say to him: "Go fuck yourself." Because really. I am better than that. I deserve more. I deserve my lover's full devotion. I deserve the full extent of his love. His deliberation, his confusion of whether or not he should choose me is something I would find highly insulting. Seriously, go fuck yourself. Leave me out of your goddamned love triangle. A love triangle is not true love. It is a game played by foolish, immature, indecisive people. If you don't like someone, don't be a bitch. Either fully devote yourself to them or drop them. Don't play games, not with people's hearts. Not with your own heart. Make up your fucking mind. 
 An overdramatic love triangle: that's all this book contained. There is little substance, there is a lot of romance, a lot of "Why is my heart beating for boy X when I truly have feelings for boy Y. And if my feelings for Y is sincere, then why can I not stop myself from thinking of X all the fucking time?" 
 It is not realistic. A boy you love wouldn't so calmly place your feelings for someone else aside while he fucking waits for you to make up your mind whom you prefer to kiss. 
 I pull away before I can lose my wits completely. It's not fair. "But...doesn't it bother you that I spend half my time thinking about Quinn? You know," I add in a mumble, "whenever I'm not thinking about you." 
 "Think I'm afraid of a little competition?" he taunts playfully, pulling back ever so slightly. 
 Men are not doormats. They should not be used as such. They should not be called upon when it is convenient for you. They should not be someone to whom you turn as a last resort. 
 I do not read contemporaries because I do not enjoy a plot that is purely romance-centric. I gravitate to paranormals, fantasies, actions because I enjoy a plot. I fucking loathe when a book that promises me excitement turns out to be filled with the beatings of the sound of one girl's wavering heart. 
 Priorities. It is all about the priorities. When you are running away from people who might want to kill you, you should not have time to think about how much the guy with you is making your heart flutter. When your parents are so recently dead, they should not be so quickly replaced in your memory by a guy you barely know. 
 A small surge of guilt shoots through me as I realize I've hardly thought of my parents the last few days. Slowly, so slowly I didn't realize it until just this moment, Benson has slipped into their place. 
 You should not start thinking of this boy, someone, again, whom you've known for a few months, for whom you have only recently developed feelings, as FAMILY. He is not. Your family is dead. You have just decided to entrust everything, including your life, to someone who have provided no evidence that you should trust him besides for the fact that he does everything mindlessly when you tell him to. He is not family. Stop calling him that. 
 Family. 
 I straighten in surprise as the word races about in my brain and then settles. 
 But why shouldn't Benson have become my family? 
 I think of Elizabeth's warnings against him yet again and a prickle of anger makes my face heat. No one, no one, has proved as loyal as Benson. I would take him over the whole lot of them. 
 "Loyalty." The loyalty that has not been earned. Tavia seems to think that Benson should be trusted. I don't think so. The events in the book predecessing her choice to trust him have not convinced me in the least. 
 The book is so incredibly filled with an overwhelming amount of love at the expense of a compelling plot. There is little excitement. There is little danger. There is a whole lot of stupid, stupid hypotheses drawn about some incredibly vague theories leading to conclusions that can only be described as the fantasies of a deranged egocentric 13 year old after watching The X-Files one too many time. 
 Tavia makes stupid decisions. She trusts a person who, coincidentally, also makes stupid decisions. Birds of a feather flock together and all that. When you are trying to go on the run, trying to stay under the radar, surely it is best to perform illegal activities like steal a car. 
 Because if someone's got to steal a car, it's going to be me. 
 Aaaaaaaaaaaand another one. Sure, why not, let's steal another car. 
 "Are you stealing this car?" I ask, horrified. 
 He pauses, then looks up at me. "I would do a lot of illegal things to keep you safe, Tave," he says with an intensity that makes my toes warm. "Just be glad this one doesn't actually hurt anyone." 
 Well, fuck, god help us all if he decided that he needed to hurt someone to save the oh-so-glorious Tavia. Go take your Bonnie and Clyde bullshit elsewhere. I don't want it. I want an actual plot.