Jordan Cavanaugh, Woody knew that without a doubt, was the most infuriating person on this planet.
Nobody could frustrate him as much as she could; she with her stubbornness, her head-over-heals-actions, her talk-first-think-later-policy. And the most infuriating thing about her, perhaps, was that she somehow always managed to end up right somehow; he didn't know how she did that, but sometimes he darkly pondered that there had to be dark magic working.
But that didn't change the fact that sometimes, he just wanted to strangle her, or shake her, or simply yell at her until she came to her senses—only if he actually did that, it'd only make her worse, she was that stubborn.
And then there were the times when she was vulnerable; when she needed someone but found herself unable to reach out. It was those times that he treasured and loathed most; they mattered so much because only then she'd admit that there was something between them, something real—and loath them he did because they were just so un-Jordan.
Jordan simply wasn't meant to be weak. She wasn't meant to be vulnerable, or helpless—yes, there was nothing wrong with her being so, but it always scared him only a little, because he never knew what to do. He wanted to hug and reassure her, but sometimes that seemed like it was exactly the wrong thing because it'd made her aware of how weak she seemed, in her mind. She simply wasn't one of those women you could lock away and keep safe; she was no helpless princess in the clutches of a dragon. She was that kind of princess who wore trousers and carried a sword with her and slayed the dragon herself, and probably the prince who came assuming she needed help with the same strike.
Which, basically, was a good thing; a wonderful thing, actually, because while Woody—like everyone else—could enjoy the feeling of being needed from time to time, in truth it made him frustrated and aggressive. It reminded him of his older brother who somehow always seemed to need his help, and he'd rather keep that can of worms closed, thank you very much.
But sometimes, in his weak hours, Woody sat and thought about them—and about whether there even really was a "them". And then, it seemed like there wasn't; if Jordan really were interested, she'd simply take him; she was that kind of woman. On the other hand, she was a lot more insecure than she seemed; she hated letting someone into her inner sanctuary, her thoughts, her heart. And it would probably be worse if they actually took their relationship to a physical level; then she'd probably talk herself into seeing it as "friends with benefits" and not "friends, potentially more".
He couldn't pressure her, either. She was like a nervous horse in that way; touch her, look at her the wrong way and she'd bolt into the opposite direction.
In the end, though, nothing would ever really change with them, Woody knew. She was infuriating, and she was enchanting. And she'd always be that to him, no matter how they ended up.