Scene 3 was titled: **"Flex Appeal: Partner Yoga & Suggestive Produce."**
Noa didn't want to know what that meant.
Ren read the shooting script aloud anyway:
"Objective: Physical intimacy through partnered yoga. Items: cucumber, sweat towel, scented body oil. Note: Eye contact must be held for at least 45 seconds during 'the deep straddle.'"
Noa nearly choked on her coffee. "DEEP WHAT?"
Ren flipped the page. "There's also a pose called 'the inverted missionary pretzel.'"
She threw her coffee at the trash can and missed. "I didn't sign up to become vegetable porn."
"Technically," Ren said, "you did. Clause 69."
"Die."
---
The yoga room was dimly lit with mood candles and lo-fi jazz.
Cherry Moon, now dressed in full athleisure bodysuit and six-inch heels, greeted them with a stretch that looked illegal.
"Today we unlock your root chakras," she announced. "And possibly each other's pants."
They were handed matching outfits—Ren's was tight black yoga pants that left nothing to the imagination.
Noa's was a cropped sports bra and cheeky shorts labeled **"Namaste Naked."**
They stood on the mat. The cucumber lay beside them. Ominously.
"Begin with seated breathing," Cherry instructed. "Then… straddle."
Noa narrowed her eyes. "You enjoy this too much."
Cherry licked a carrot suggestively. "I enjoy performance."
---
Pose 1: The Face-to-Face Sit.
They sat cross-legged, knees touching, eyes locked.
Ren whispered, "You have a freckle on your right eyelid."
Noa blinked. "Why do you know that?"
"I stare a lot."
"You're creepy."
"You're sweaty."
"You're *blushing.*"
"You're *close.*"
Their noses nearly touched. Their breathing synchronized. The tension was hotter than the yoga room.
"Hold," Cherry said.
They held.
And then Noa sneezed into his face.
Ren yelped. "MY EYE."
---
Pose 2: Downward Dog Behind Support.
Ren stood behind her, hands on her hips. She was in downward dog.
"This feels illegal," she muttered.
"It probably is in 12 countries," he said.
Cherry shouted, "Eyes up, hips back, pretend you're grinding against destiny!"
Noa glared. "Destiny smells like peppermint oil."
"Focus," Cherry commanded. "Now… insert the cucumber."
They froze.
"I'm sorry, *what?!*" Noa barked.
"Place it between your backs. Use it to balance," Cherry clarified.
"Oh thank God," Ren exhaled.
Cherry smirked. "What did you think I meant?"
Both: "NOTHING!"
---
Pose 3: The Deep Straddle.
They sat facing each other, legs wrapped around one another, arms locked.
The cucumber was trapped between their bellies like a hostage.
"Hold eye contact for forty-five seconds," Cherry whispered. "This is intimacy. This is exposure. This is fruitcore."
They stared.
Thirty seconds in, Noa couldn't stop giggling.
"Don't laugh," Ren said, trying to keep a straight face.
"You're hard," she whispered.
He blinked. "It's the pose!"
"It's the yoga pants!"
"It's the cucumber!"
Then they both collapsed sideways, legs tangled, cucumber rolling off and hitting the cameraman.
Luis (boom mic): "I got hit in the nuts."
Cherry: "That's the art, baby."
---
After the scene, they lay flat on their backs on the mat, gasping.
Ren turned to Noa. "My groin is spiritually bruised."
"My soul needs dry cleaning," Noa replied.
The cucumber rolled back between them.
They stared at it.
Then burst into laughter.
"No one's going to believe this," Ren muttered.
"Maybe that's a good thing," Noa said.
---
Back in their room, they soaked their legs in cold water and watched the raw footage.
They looked like two gym rats having an exorcism.
"Why do I look like I'm giving birth to a squash?" Noa asked.
"Why do I sound like a sexy goat when I stretch?" Ren replied.
They paused.
Watched one particular moment—Noa straddling Ren, both of them out of breath, holding eye contact, completely still, completely real.
No script.
Just two idiots caught in something dangerous.
They both turned to look at each other.
Then away.
---
Later that night, Noa peeked into Ren's room.
He was in bed, scrolling.
She hovered. "Hey."
"Yeah?"
"Want some cucumber?"
He stared.
She held up a salad bowl.
"Real cucumber. For eating."
"Oh."
Pause.
"Sure."
They sat in the kitchen in silence, eating actual cucumber slices.
No whipped cream. No cameras. No yoga.
Just them.
And suddenly, it was the most intimate moment of all.