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Rogue glanced around the foyer at Xavier’s. At the risk of sounding cliché, it was quiet…too quiet. And in a school of unchecked mutant powers, that was never a good thing.

Earlier, she could have sworn she’d heard a motorcycle outside, but Logan wasn’t due back for a few days from his latest trip up North.

Padding into the rec room, she spotted Tabby, Jubilee, and Amara, their head bent together in whispered conversation. Their conversation came to a halt as they spotted her. Amara whispered something Rogue couldn’t hear. Jubilee shushed her loudly.

“Hey, Girl,” Tabby called loudly, waving a hand wildly, even though they were only across the empty room. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Rogue replied slowly, eyeing the trio. She didn’t trust the grin stretching over the blonde bombshell’s face.

“Anything new and exciting going on?”

Rogue narrowed her eyes. “No. Why?”

Tabby’s smile stretched impossibly wide as she hopped up. “Nothing. Have you had lunch yet? We were just going to the kitchen.”

Amara and Jubilee giggled.

Warning bells began ringing in the back of Rogue’s head. Something was definitely up.

“I’m not really hungry—”

“Great! Let’s go!” Tabby grabbed her by the shoulders and started steering her toward the hall.

“What in blue blazes is going on with y’all?” Rogue squawked.

“Nothing. Nothing,” Tabby said lightly, still shoving. “It’s just I know how you Southerners like your down-home cooking.”

Jubilee smothered a noise with her hand.

Tabby’s grin turned wicked. “And I heard we got some Cajun sausage today.”

“Cajun sausage—have y’all lost your mind?” Rogue huffed. Distantly, her mind registered the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. “Why on earth would I care about that?”

Tabby didn’t answer, just gave her one final shove through the swinging kitchen door. Rogue stumbled and cursed, trying to keep her feet under her. Regaining her balance, she glanced up. Half the Team was staring at her with looks ranging from worry to like they’d been waiting for a show.

And there, leaning against the door frame, was Gambit—in a pair of worn, low-rise jeans that probably were illegal in five states. His dark eyes glinted with open amusement.

He looked good. Real good. And Rogue immediately wanted to kick herself for noticing.

A wicked grin unfurled across his face. His eyes slid over her shamelessly from top to bottom and back up again, not caring one bit that the whole room was watching.

Her face burned.

“Chere,” he drawled. “Guess who just joined the X-Men.”

Rogue stared. A small, pathetic sound squeezed out of her throat before she could strangle it.

Five seconds. That was all it took for the Cajun to stroll back into her life and send her blood pressure through the roof.