Vogue | Tony Stark

EIGHT - RUMOURS

"I surrender! I surrender!"

"Too late. Can't wave the white flag now I'm afraid."

Estélla was stood teetering on the edge of the pool, a breeze causing ripples in the water to lap against the marble sides and splash lightly at her ankles. She had her back to the water, hands held up in defeat as she pleaded with her friend for mercy.

Tony stood with a grin, the hot summer sun bronzing his skin and casting a line where he'd been wearing the same red swim shorts all day. His hair was a mess from the sea salt and his eyes were hazy with low energy from their long afternoon, but his smile was the same as it always was.

He held the plastic water gun in his hands, smirking proudly as Esté was finally out of places to run to after chasing her around the garden for the past half an hour, spraying her with cold water beneath the cloudless sky.

They'd been outside all day like usual, swimming in the ocean and listening to music on the sand, but the sun was beginning to disappear over the horizon by that time and the sky that had been pure blue all day was melting into a painting of orange and pink.

"Please Tony!" She begged with a giggle passing through her lips, happiness in her wide eyes as she shivered in the breeze.

"Sorry, I take no prisoners."

Tony shrugged his shoulders before spraying Esté with the water gun, laughter coming from both of their chests before she stumbled backwards into the pool. He immediately tossed the gun to the side and dived in after her, swimming beneath the water and grabbing her by the hips, holding her above him when they both surfaced with water dripping from their eyelashes and ends of their hair.

"Tony! I didn't want to get my hair wet today!"

Esté frowned and splashed her friend, her hands resting on his shoulders as he continued to hold her by the waist. They were sixteen at the time and barely had a care in the world, living for the summers where they spent each day inside their own little daydream.

"Kids! We're leaving for dinner in an hour, you better be ready and waiting by the door!"

Leonie Goldwyn poked her head out of the French doors and called out to the teenagers, rolling her eyes with a small smile when she saw them.

"We'll be ready, don't worry," Esté replied, nodding before her mother turned her back with a wave and disappeared back inside, "I'm never going to be ready in an hour now I've got to wash and dry my hair, thanks a lot."

Tony just laughed, "Why can't you go like this? I like how it looks."

With one hand he began to twirl a strand of her damp hair around his fingers, smiling as she scoffed at his playfulness and disregard to how serious she thought the situation was.

"I look like I have a lions mane, Tony," Esté tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

Tony looked up at her with a tease of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, "I happen to think lions are beautiful."

The visions of his memories playing out before him were as vivid as ever as Tony walked the halls and the gardens of the Goldwyn's Hamptons home. There was a story in every corner and almost all of them were happy tales, a recollection of shared secrets of laughter so loud it could've been heard across the globe.

He'd almost forgotten how sacred his friendship with Esté was, and just how intimate, too. Most of the time, it was the two of them against the world, never really investing as much time into anybody else as they did with each other. They complemented one another and had done from a young age, Esté seeming like the sun and Tony like the moon, so different yet so similar in all the right ways.